


Misfits

by The_Blackstaff_and_NightMarE



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Horror, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Blackstaff_and_NightMarE/pseuds/The_Blackstaff_and_NightMarE
Summary: To fit in, is to belong. To be a part of a whole. Growing up an experiment with people far more broken than himself, Naruto was never given that gift. Armed only with a strange talking seal and the demons of his past, Naruto will have to carve his place in a world far larger than he is used to. Will the misfit find his family, or will the world find a monster? Gamer Elements.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

It all started with the Hiraishin.

Invented by Tobirama Senju during the Second Shinobi War, the fuinjutsu technique was used to transport armaments, food, and people to the war fronts. It was a technique only limited by its massive chakra requirement, a game-changer that left Konoha with the least fatalities after all the blood had been shed.

And now, Sarutobi wanted him to make it _better_.

To somehow turn this chakra-extensive behemoth into a stable transportation system, one which did not exponentially use more chakra with added distance and mass.

It would no doubt be helpful to Konoha, enhancing its ability to deploy shinobi.

But it was also _boring._

Very boring, by Orochimaru's standards.

Orochimaru was currently working on the analysis of Hashirama Senju's cells in hopes of understanding the mechanism behind Wood Release— something that was taking up all of his time and attention. He had no time for trivialities, and he told his old sensei as much.

And so, Hiruzen had given the task to Jiraiya, not that it would accomplish anything. Make no mistake, Jiraiya was _good_. Better than most people he knew, in fact. But he was no _Orochimaru._

All things considered, Orochimaru had been happy. Well, _relieved_ might have been the better word. The man-child would have hounded him relentlessly about peeking into bathhouses and all sorts of perverted nonsense if burdened with too much free time. At least with this, he'd be doing something productive and, more importantly, not bothering him.

Though, the many misfortune incidents he'd been forced to undergo by the Toad-Sannin told him otherwise. No doubt he'd find some way to pervert even this technique.

He was good at that.

Regardless, it was officially not his cross to bear any longer. Out of sight, out of mind.

And that assumption, in hindsight, had been his greatest mistake.

After tinkering with the formula for months and running into nothing but roadblocks— as Orochimaru expected —his teammate then proceeded to give the task to his student.

He almost scoffed when he heard that. No matter how much Jiraiya boasted about his fuinjutsu apprentice and his innovative style of thought, Orochimaru had never expected him to get anywhere with the technique.

Hell, he was already half-prepared with a list of excuses he could pick from to avoid such boring seal modification work, for when it inevitably landed back in his hands after the multitude of failures.

And then, barely eight months later, Namikaze succeeded. He converted Tobirama's transportation seal into an offensive technique built for one purpose, and one purpose alone.

To slaughter _armies_.

Everyone had been skeptical at first, and he was no exception. But the Battle of Kannabi Bridge left no more room for doubt in anyone's mind. Minato Namikaze ambushed a massive Iwa force, comprising over a thousand Iwa shinobi.

Alone.

Only one person walked away from that confrontation uninjured. And it wasn't an Iwa shinobi.

* * *

"I dare say I wasn't expecting this invitation, Lord Third."

Orochimaru held his teacher's gaze for a full three seconds before sneering and looking away. The Hokage's office may not have been the grandest edifice in Konoha, but it was certainly the most famous. Interestingly enough, it was the only other building— aside from the Konoha Academy —that was built on the slopes of the Hokage Monument.

Ever since he was a child, he'd been strangely fixated on that particular topographic feature. Not because of the famous faces sculpted into its chest for the world to see, but for a far more morbid, ironic reason.

_If that mountain ever shattered, Konoha's past would bury its present and future._

Orochimaru couldn't explain it, but every time he peered up at the monument, the instinctive desire to destroy the entire mountain seemed to raise its hood. The mental description may have seemed slightly odd for a neutral observer, but for the Snake Sannin, it was an apt fit.

"Actually, it was I who requested your presence."

Orochimaru suppressed a hiss as he craned his neck at his _opponent_.

"Namikaze."

"Minato, please," Namikaze nodded, a polite smile on his lips. Clearly someone had been imparting the art of diplomacy to this… upstart.

"Namikaze," Orochimaru drolly repeated. He wasn't in the mood to stand on ceremony at the moment, especially not for the one chosen over him by his own teacher.

Minato sighed. "Before my position as the Fourth is officially announced, I suggested bringing about some changes in the Council. It's why I asked for your presence here."

"Not even Hokage yet and here you are, already making plans to take over the Council," Orochimaru smirked. "You've been a busy little man, haven't you?"

"You have been requested to aid in this discussion, Orochimaru, not to make snarky comments," Hiruzen replied in an acerbic tone, silencing the snake-summoner. "You were one of _four_ possible candidates for the position, and Minato was chosen. All four are present here, but you don't see them complaining."

Orochimaru's gaze flitted towards Danzo Shimura, who looked distinctly uncomfortable with the setting, if the scowl on his face was any indication.

He smirked, meeting Hiruzen's eye a second time.

"Alright, _most_ of them aren't complaining," Hiruzen muttered. "Now can we get to the point?"

"As I was saying," Namikaze began, completely ignoring the tension draped across the room, "I have made some changes in the Council in light of recent events. While elders Utatane and Mitokado have historically advised Lord Third over administrative issues, I've decided to invite some other members of our village to promote smoother functioning."

"Minato has my complete support," Hiruzen spoke up exuberantly. "In light of his... battle against Iwa, Konoha has entered a period of peace. It is in our interest to preserve that for as long as possible."

"I think you're confusing peace with _quiet,"_ Danzo chided.

"That remains to be seen," Hiruzen countered. "Iwa has all but surrendered, and the rest of the villages have already withdrawn most of their personnel from our land."

In any case," Namikaze interrupted, "while we _are_ currently at peace, we must not—"

Orochimaru yawned, tuning out from Namikaze's passionate speech and opting to look at the rest of the attendants.

 _Probably members of the new council_.

He could see Shikaku Nara, the newly minted Jōnin Commander. There was also Inoichi Yamanaka, the current Head of T&I, and finally Fugaku Uchiha, leader of the Uchiha clan and current Head of the Konoha Police division. In addition to them were, of course, the original _trusted_ advisors of the Hokage— members of the original Council —Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado.

"—this expanded Council is going to advise me about decisions concerning Konoha's administration," Namikaze's grating voice droned. "Orochimaru, I'd like it if you were to be a part of this Council as well."

"Me?" Orochimaru asked, genuinely surprised. Out of all the expectations he had walked in with, this was certainly not among them. Then again, this was _Minato Namikaze._ That damn brat had the ability to get under his skin faster than anyone possible, and he was teammates with _Jiraiya_.

Not an easy feat, by any stretch.

"Tsunade was my first choice," Namikaze admitted, not that it surprised him. Despite her departure, the Princess of Konoha was still seen favorably among the masses. "Her presence would have served as an effective boost to our medical units. But Lord Third assures me that she's not… interested. As such…" he drawled, glancing at Hiruzen a second time, "we think that your research interests would be of great value to this Council."

That did it.

Not only was his position being taken away, but now he had to be this whelp's… advisor?

This was practically adding insult to injury, and Orochimaru could barely temper his rage. His knuckles paled from the clenching of his fists— an exercise to keep himself from exuding his animosity. Instinctively, he knew that if he let slip his rage, it would come out in the worst possible way. It would consume everything, including the delicate little charade that Namikaze and Hiruzen were trying to maintain.

"Orochimaru," Namikaze spoke up once more, "I request your presence in the advisory council."

"...Of course," Orochimaru replied, his smile never quite reaching his eyes.

* * *

"You've taken to your new _position_ like a fish to water."

Orochimaru sighed, looking up from his desk. Trust Danzo Shimura to poke his hawk-like nose into matters he had no business in. Then again, he referred to himself as the _Darkness of Konoha_ , a rather self-important title in and of itself.

Danzo was a war-veteran mentally still fighting in the First Shinobi War. Despite wielding significant authority within Konoha, it did little to diminish the most important thing about the man.

Danzo Shimura was _boring_.

Tobirama Senju had chosen Sarutobi over Danzo to succeed him— his last act as the Second Hokage, barely minutes before his death at the hands of Kiri shinobi. What was shocking was that Danzo had not fought the decision, nor did he make any kind of stand. Instead, he outright _denied_ it. Not by words, but by his own actions.

Since Hiruzen would rule Konoha as the supreme commander of the ANBU forces, Danzo _created_ an entire ANBU division just for himself— a mindless group of socially-stunted individuals that were bootlickers at best and incompetent at worst. According to Danzo, his ANBU forces— which he named _Root_ —didn't need to _think._ They just needed to follow his order to the fullest, and that apparently sufficed for the man.

Personally, Orochimaru thought that Danzo did it because anyone with two brain cells in working order would know to ditch him and join the _real_ ANBU instead. That, or the old man feared that his needlessly byzantine plans would be torn apart by any competent genin.

And now, Konoha's warhawk gaze fell upon him. Did the gods truly hate him so much? As if he didn't already have enough to deal with.

"What do you want, Danzo?"

"It is a sad day when someone who should have been Hokage is forced to settle for a desk job."

"I'd say pot-kettle, but that would mean I consider Root a _real_ organization," Orochimaru dismissed. He had neither the time nor patience for Danzo and his limitless paranoia. "It doesn't _exist,_ after all. Isn't that right?"

He half expected the man to attack, knowing how twitchy Danzo could get when questioned about his organization's significance. Personally, a bit of physical combat would've been a breath of fresh air. And long hours of work inevitably led to boredom, even if said work was something as interesting as cracking the code behind Hashirama Senju's abilities to create life itself _._

To his dismay, Danzo merely smiled.

Like he said, _boring_.

"You raise good points, Orochimaru of the Sannin," the man went on, his formality bordering on sarcastic. "However, I came here to discuss a proposition."

"I've yet to hear any."

"An offer to join Root."

"Declined." Orochimaru turned back to his desk, his eyes roving over the diagrams he had been working on before this impromptu conversation. Picking up his pencil, he began to continue his work.

"Just like Minato denied your request to start human trials?"

His hand stilled.

For the past five years, Orochimaru had spent nearly all his time researching Hashirama Senju's DNA, both in its ability to breathe _life_ as well as prolong one's lifespan. As a diligent student and researcher, Orochimaru salivated at the endless possibilities his DNA offered, particularly if it could be harvested successfully.

With this, his personal goal of achieving an immensely long lifespan— and perhaps even _immortality_ —would soon be within his grasp. And once that was achieved, learning all the jutsu throughout the Elemental Nations would be an afterthought at best.

It was why he had been using his field captures as his personal lab rats for research over the years. But with him slowly spending less and less time out on missions, the number of available test subjects had become increasingly small.

He had all but discarded his pride and ego and requested _Lord_ Fourth to approve the use of prisoners from T&I in his research pursuits. He even took extra effort to diligently explain all that his research had to offer.

Namikaze listened to it all with that ever-patient smile of his.

And then denied him.

Because of _course_ he had.

The _brat_ even had the gall to use his own statistics against him. Sure, the number of survivors post the initial DNA injections were less than two percent, but that still meant a _two percent_ success rate. Two out of a hundred. Twenty out of a thousand.

For fuck's sake, they were _shinobi_. Had that brat forgotten that his throne was built from the corpses of a thousand Iwa shinobi at Kannabi Bridge?

His pencil began to move again, scribbling on the pages furiously as his mind churned in multiple tangents.

"I can grant you all the test subjects you desire," Danzo casually dropped. "After all, it is the sacrifice made by the _roots_ that allows the tree to flourish and remain strong."

He kept scribbling.

* * *

Orochimaru had never believed in fate.

In the two years since becoming Hokage, Minato Namikaze had accomplished a litany of things. But nothing— _nothing_ —grated at him more than the fact that the brat had somehow achieved the status of _perfect sage_.

Not even Jiraiya, beloved summoner of the Toads, had been able to achieve the feat. And anyone that knew Jiraiya claimed the man was too dignified to be jealous of his own student, but Orochimaru knew better.

After all, the shaggy-haired man had literally cried himself to sleep over losing to his oh-so-perfect student like that.

After emptying several caskets of high-quality sake.

From Orochimaru's personal collection.

Despite his own personal grudges against Namikaze, Orochimaru had no qualms about admitting that the boy had potential. But to become the first perfect sage since Hashirama himself? It was almost like the kid was _trying_ to one-up him.

That simply would not do.

He was never the type to get up close and personal in a fight— he preferred the stealthy slice of a kunai to a flashy jutsu anyday. Rushing towards the enemy was more of Jiraiya's thing anyways, and to his credit, the fool played his part exceedingly well.

Jiraiya was the warrior, Tsunade the healer, and he himself the assassin.

Their team was a well-oiled machine, working perfectly for several years.

But now… upon hearing about Namikaze's success with senjutsu, the competitive side of him raised its hood in defiance, wanting to prove himself. To show them all that it was no big deal.

Orochimaru of the Sannin could do it too. And do it better.

That was how he found himself standing at the entrance of Ryuchi Cave. It had been both enlightening and humiliating at the same time.

Back when Manda had offered him the chance to learn the art, he had openly expressed his contempt for it. And now, after thirty years as a snake-summoner, he had found himself awaiting the _trials_ at the entrance of Ryuchi Cave. If this was the work of a higher power trying to teach him humility, Orochimaru would reluctantly agree they were doing a rather decent job at it.

Unfortunately, the indignity didn't stop there.

It had taken him several months before he'd finally given up. Fifteen months of rigorous study of senjutsu, coupled with equally diligent practice. Despite doing _everything_ the White Snake Sage asked of him, Orochimaru hadn't been able to become a sage.

He failed.

And the reason was equally _frustrating_. If the ancient creature were to be believed, Orochimaru's soul was _fragile_. Whatever that meant.

Soul manipulation wasn't his forte after all.

And so all those months, all that effort, all that training, all that information... It was _all_ useless.

At this point, Orochimaru was a hair's breadth away from giving into his anger and just going on a murder spree to vent. Say what you would about the notion, but there was something strangely cathartic about killing idiots.

And then a boy named Jugo literally _walked_ into one of the newer private labs he'd constructed off the coast of Konoha, and Orochimaru couldn't help but have his innate beliefs challenged. For what else could this be, if not divine providence?

In less than a month, he cracked the code— understood almost _everything_ that made Jugo's incredible bloodline tick. It was able to directly harness ambient natural energy to modify the body, giving it supernatural strength. Of course, the strength came with a side effect of temporary insanity, but it was a minor setback at best.

Sanity was overrated anyways.

Now, all that remained was to learn how to harness that power for himself. But he planned to go even further.

The immense knowledge of senjutsu from the snakes had a _lot_ to do with the soul. From what he understood, the snakes had been able to achieve a form of immortality through a semblance of reincarnation known only to them. Orochimaru had the theory down pat, but the practical aspect was beyond even him.

The answer to _that_ dilemma came to him in the form of the Iburi clan— a family that had the special ability to turn to smoke and back. At first glance, people would identify it as a physical manipulation of the body. But after several months of research, Orochimaru knew better.

It was _manipulation at the soul level._

He had been unable to master senjutsu— no, he had absolutely _failed_ at it. But so what? He'd soon reach that peak of perfection, that final stage when one became an immortal. And he'd do whatever it took, using all the knowledge he'd earned over the years, to arrive at his destination.

After all, the ends always justified the means.

* * *

Around a year prior to the Battle of Kannabi Bridge, Namikaze had married Kushina Uzumaki— commonly believed to be the very last descendant of the famous— or infamous, depending on who you asked —Uzumaki heritage. If Orochimaru had been a bit more… interested in the pleasures of the flesh, he'd have tried to marry the girl. But the fact that she was smitten with Namikaze from day one had made her repulsive in his eyes.

Even _he_ was allowed to be vain from time to time.

Regardless, it was the very same Uzumaki who was the current source of his problems.

Kushina Uzumaki was apparently the Kyuubi jinchuuriki _._

A jinchuuriki's seal was apparently unstable during childbirth.

Kushina Uzumaki was apparently pregnant, and on the verge of labor.

And _of course,_ some crackpot had gotten to know about it, and _of course_ he was able to bypass Konoha's extensive security, kidnap Kushina and set the nine-tailed monstrosity loose on the village.

It almost sounded like the beginning of a bad joke. Orochimaru would have laughed if said joke wasn't currently trampling over half of Konoha.

Still, he did snicker a bit.

And it didn't help that Konoha was bumbling in its efforts to deal with the situation handily. Its powerful and magnanimous Hokage was missing in action, leaving the plebian shinobi population to deal with the giant monstrosity.

Jiraiya was away gathering information on Kiri. Tsunade had been a no-show for several years now, and even if she chose to come back, the village would be decimated by the time word reached her. Aside from Sarutobi— who was old enough to have fought in the First Shinobi War —that left just him to pick up the slack.

Either that, or allow his faltering reputation to be besmirched.

Orochimaru may have been a sociopath and a heartless killer, but he did have _some_ attachment to the village. There was a reason he'd wanted to become Hokage, after all. It wasn't just for the sake of his pride.

_No point thinking about it when you have a job to do._

Regular shinobi were not capable of damaging a behemoth like the beast in front of him. Only a monster of similar proportions stood a chance.

Fortunately, he knew just the monster for the job.

Normally, he'd not have summoned _him_ , but none of the other snakes would have been able to put up a strong resistance against the Kyuubi, a strong swipe of its many tails enough to spell disaster. Of course, Manda would demand a sacrifice of several hundred lives in exchange, but that could be arranged.

In time.

With proper resources.

At some point in the future.

His hands moved in perfect unison, manifesting seals with his own blood as he completed the summoning technique.

A moment later, his request was answered.

Loudly.

…

…

...

In hindsight, things had not gone the way he wanted. _At all_.

His summoning of Manda was far less effective than he expected. Fighting a feline creature was naturally difficult for a serpent, physically speaking, and this one was titanic and made of corrosive chakra. As such, the gladiatorial battle between the two mountain-sized creatures had decimated two-thirds of Konoha as collateral damage.

While he was able to secure the safety of a lot of clan members and other shinobi in the time Manda bought him, the battle brought with it a massive death toll on the civilian population.

All things considered, it was objectively a heavy price.

Over seventy thousand people had lost their lives by the end of it. The Kyuubi's chakra corroded anything it touched, and while Manda could hold him off for bits at a time, the residual chakra alone by simply being in its presence was enough to snuff out any nearby civilians. Hell, a significant chunk of the shinobi population perished as well— mostly genin and chunin.

In one single stroke, the event had almost _purged_ Konoha's future.

The remaining chunin and genin may as well have been civilians for all the good they could do against such a foe. He idly wondered what the Academy had been teaching them, considering how vocal they were about _strategically retreating_ until the Hokage showed up.

Orochimaru called those people 'quitters'.

Personally, he had followed wartime directives— prioritizing the lives of shinobi who could fight over others. The flipside of this, of course, was that it was paid for in the currency of civilian lives.

And so to some people, Orochimaru's actions— namely, his summoning of Manda —had been seen in a negative light. Many placed the blame for the mass destruction caused by the gigantic battle directly on his shoulders.

He hoped the Kyuubi killed them next.

But for all their complaining about the number of deaths he had seemingly allowed, at least they were alive to complain. If _he_ hadn't stepped in and stalled the Kyuubi, they probably wouldn't have that privilege to begin with.

Of course, they never stopped to realize that fact. Instead, they foolishly believed that if it was the venerated _Lord Hokage_ in his place, he probably would have saved them all.

What a joke.

As if on cue, their prayers were answered, for there the man suddenly was, appearing on top of the Hokage Monument in a flash of yellow.

_Speak of the devil, and he shall appear._

He was wearing that horribly ostentatious white cloak with the words _Fourth Hokage_ inscribed on them. God knew that the man couldn't possibly get a bigger head.

Though, for all his proclaimed hatred of the man, Orochimaru couldn't help but be impressed by what ensued.

Using a derivation of his Flying Thunder God technique— the man's head suddenly seemed a tad larger —Namikaze snatched one of those _stupidly powerful_ balls of pure, corrosive chakra heading for Konoha and threw it at the surrounding forest instead. The looks of awe and veneration on everyone's faces at the feat punctuated what would likely be the last chapter of Namikaze's legend.

One in which he fought a bijuu single-handedly.

It only made Orochimaru hate him more.

And then, in a flash of blindingly bright yellow, both Namikaze and the Kyuubi suddenly vanished. He had somehow managed to teleport both himself and a goddamn _bijuu_ away with him.

The hero who saved his hidden village received unending applause. And from the dirty look and side glances he'd been receiving, his own contributions would not be appreciated anytime soon.

Orochimaru sighed.

_Story of my life._

* * *

Hiruzen stared in mute shock at the dead body of his successor. He had been Konoha's brightest flame— so young and powerful, the leader of the next generation. Stern when required, yet kind when it mattered.

"You— you did not deserve this," A tear tracked its way down his cheek as he closed his eyes. "Your Will of Fire burned strong. Stronger than any of us. You laid down your life to save us all, and you will never be forgotten."

He took a deep breath, opening his eyes as he turned to the surrounding shinobi. Everything laid in shambles— from the buildings to the mountains to the forests to the very people themselves. Their village was now more rubble than _village_.

Hundreds of shinobi lay dead, many of them with families that no longer had anyone to take care of them. Others, tragically, had nobody to mourn for them.

And yet, all of them had bravely sacrificed their very lives to buy a scant few seconds longer for the sake of their village. The place they all called _home_.

_They deserve to be cremated with honor._

Hiruzen took another deep breath. He had fought through three major different wars, but never had he experienced something quite so horrific, tragic, or jarring.

But he had to remain strong. His village needed him to.

Minato's legacy needed him to.

Crouching down, he slowly picked up the child from where he lay. Minato and Kushina had sacrificed their lives for the village, for the well-being of this child. Even in their death, they had ensured that their child survived, and in doing so, aided the village yet again.

_It should have been me that died. Not you, Minato._

He glanced at the baby again— specifically, at the intricate seal adorning his belly button. A seal that would be Minato's greatest gift to Konoha, ensuring its safety in the coming tumultuous times.

_Naruto Namikaze. The Kyuubi jinchuuriki._

"Orochimaru," he barked.

A faint popping sound and the barest of smoke were all that indicated his arrival. His Body Flicker technique was as impeccable as ever.

"...Yes?" the snake sannin asked.

"Take the child to the Hokage Tower. Your highest priority is ensuring he is safe from any and all harm." He discretely rubbed the seal on the child's belly, knowing that his student would recognize it for what it was.

As expected, Orochimaru's eyes widened immediately, before cool indifference overtook him once more.

"Of course," his student replied softly but resolutely, almost as if making some kind of decision. "I will make sure Minato's child remains safe."

…

…

...

It was quiet. Eerily quiet.

A few minutes later, Hiruzen realized the Hokage Monument was so quiet because it was _empty_.

_Something is wrong._

As a shinobi, it was a privilege to live as long as he had. The feat spoke of power, talent, skill, and above all, an intuition that had never failed him thus far in life. And right now, it was screaming at him that something terrible had happened. He started to scale the Hokage Tower faster.

And then he saw it.

Both chunin guarding the entrance to the Hokage's office lay dead.

Freshly dead, the blood still dripping from their slit throats.

He'd recognize the subtle perfection of those cuts anywhere.

_Orochimaru._

The utter feeling of wrongness only intensified as he rushed into the room. If anything had happened to Naruto, he'd never be able to face Minato or Kushina in the Pure Land.

He frantically scanned around the room, but all he was met with was emptiness.

Every bit of paper, every scroll— anything that had value really —was methodically removed from the room. The tightly secured door to the fuinjutsu-locked safe was left open, and Konoha's forbidden Scroll of Seals was conspicuous by its absence.

There was no sign of Orochimaru anywhere. Or the baby.

"Orochimaru," Hiruzen whispered, bonelessly collapsing on the floor, the shock nearly too much for him to bear. "What have you done?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> ~The BlackStaff and NightMarE~


	2. Act 1 - Beyond the Horizon | Chapter 1 - Here be Monsters

_Just another day._

Subject-19 walked out of his chamber. The events of the previous day had left him drained. Nothing to be surprised about, but the feeling of _wrongness_ hadn’t quite yet faded. The people in white coats— he refused to call them _medics_ —had put him through another series of rigorous tests, injecting him with several large needles and pumping some weird serum into him. He could never tell what it was, but it always filled him with an instinctive sense of revulsion.

Back when he was little, the process stung a bit, but he was used to it by now. The prick was part and parcel of his monotonous life inside this cavernous dungeon that had been his entire world for as long as he could remember.

Well, almost entirely. The dungeon, a building their vaunted lord and master called his ‘laboratory’, was built upon an island surrounded by water as far as the eye could see. It was the only other sight he was familiar with apart from the dreary building.

It was his favorite view.

Every morning, before the warden arose, he’d climb his way past the facility and over the jagged rocks to stand on top of the precipice, overlooking the sparkling waters below. He had often entertained the idea of diving into the sparkling blue ream below, but he probably wouldn’t have gotten far since he didn’t know how to swim.

And even if he did, jumping in the water was a certain death— or so he was told.

“Whatcha doing up here, Nineteen?”

He turned tilted his head to the right, glancing at the black-haired, tall, lean girl standing beside him. Though ‘girl’ was a bit of a misnomer, since she was probably around twenty years old. It would have been more appropriate to call her a young woman.

_Not that she acts like one._

Anko Mitarashi was a student of the Master and the most hyperactive human he had ever encountered in his, admittedly, limited life. She was a recipient of the Master’s Cursed Seal of Heaven, and the only test subject to survive the implantation thus far, if the rumors were to be believed.

His gaze flitted towards the woman’s hair. Short, spiky, an unkempt mess— just like he remembered, save for the new lilac tints. Those weren’t there the last time he saw her. He’d know. He noticed these tiny things.

It was an instinctual habit of his.

“My girls are down here if you really wanna stare, you know,” Anko interrupted, cupping her breasts and jiggling them for his viewing pleasure.

“...Sorry?” He blinked, taken off-guard by her behavior. Though, he really shouldn’t have been, considering how many times she’d tried to unnerve him in the past.

Anko merely sighed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve got a hair fetish.”

“But you do know better.”

She looked crestfallen as she touched her chest with one hand, giving the impression of someone in mourning. “Unfortunately.”

Naruto didn’t reply. There was nothing to reply to.

“So… what’s got you up here so early, Nineteen? Planning on a nice, long swim?”

“You know I can’t swim,” he murmured softly. “And don’t call me Nineteen.”

“Really?” She took a step forward. “Then what do I call you, _Nineteen?_ ”

She inched closer again.

“I have a name. Use it.”

“And if I don’t?”

Closer.

“Then there’s nothing left to say.” He turned away, gazing at the endless sea in front of him. Every morning, he’d see the warden, waist-deep in the waters, offering some sort of prayer. A neutral observer would probably call the whole ritual pious.

Naruto would have done the same, if not for the fact that said _pious_ act was performed right after the warden finished cutting up the dead bodies of prisoners, burning them, then spreading their ashes into the sea.

It was disturbing.

“Look at you, trying to appear all cool,” Anko cooed. Sensing his lack of interest in continuing the conversation, she scrunched her face in frustration. “That’s not fair, Nine— I mean, _Naruto_. You can at least pretend to be caught off-guard.” She jiggled her breasts again. “Surely these girls catch even _your_ attention?”

Fun fact— Anko Mitarashi absolutely _adored_ him, or so he was told. To the point she’d suffocate him with her attention, sometimes literally.

Naruto sighed. This particular barter of words was an old ritual between the two of them. Anko would shamelessly provoke him with her body while he continued to ignore her. The results hardly varied from day to day, but she was persistent if nothing else.

“Why don’t you try that with Mr. Yakushi, Anko?”

“Pfft!” Anko wheezed, clutching her stomach. “As if that eunuch would ever be interested in these beauties.” She cupped her breasts again. “Besides, why’s he _Mr. Yakushi_ and I’m just _Anko_?”

“I can call you Mitarashi,” Naruto offered.

Anko snorted.

He turned towards her and shrugged. “It works for him. Some people value power, others wealth. Mr. Yakushi values social superiority.”

“Plus that stickler-for-rules lets you come up here.”

“That too.”

Naruto looked away again. The number of people he had personally talked to in his life were less than a dozen. Of course, that was discounting the white-coat men that called him Nineteen and treated him like a test subject.

A walking, breathing, _useful_ , test subject.

He blinked again, breathing in deeply to prevent the feeling of revulsion from rising all over again. He really needed to gain more control over his thoughts.

His musings were interrupted by a heavy sigh. “I don’t get how you turned out so gloomy. Like, look at me!” Anko smacked her chest lightly. “I served Orochimaru for this long, and I turned out fine.”

_Fine is such a subjective word…_

Friendly or not, Anko was a busybody. Overwhelmingly so. She was loud, stubborn, prone to doing things before thinking, and despite the fact that the cursed seal on her neck gave her more leeway than others at the facility, the warden would often bitch about her when she thought no one was looking.

“Whatever!” Anko looked miffed, taking his silence as a response of disinterest. Knowing her, she’d probably interpret it in the worst way possible.

“What are you doing here, Anko?”

“You mean apart from flirting with a rock?”

Naruto rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Well, this is kinda my last day here. So, maybe we could hang out for a bit?”

“Why?”

“Well…” Anko looked a little uncomfortable. “Mostly ‘cause you’re the only guy around here that hasn’t been a complete asshole to me.”

“Seven in the morning is way too early to get mushy.” Naruto looked at her suspiciously. “Are you drunk?”

“Asshole!” She nudged his shoulder angrily.

It hurt a little. She had hit him right where he had received several injections the previous night. There was no point in mentioning that, though. It would do nothing for the pain he felt.

“Where are you off to?”

“The Southern Hideout. Somewhere near Kiri. Bloody place, literally.”

“What’s it like?”

Anko shrugged. “Never been before. But that’s where your sweetheart is from.”

“She’s not my _sweetheart,_ woman.”

“Ooh, denial. I’ve seen that before. There was this kunoichi I seduced in this mission. Maybe have your little girlfriend learn a few tricks from her? There’s this thing she does with her tongue—”

Naruto cleared his throat. Loudly. “As I _said,”_ he stressed the last word out, “she’s not my sweetheart.”

“Sure, sure. Anyway, don’t stay here for too long or that bitch will get you. Honestly, she’s got a tanto-sized stick up her ass—”

Said ‘bitch’ referred to Guren, the warden of the facility and the foremost authority on the island excluding the Master. He had never seen her use her powers before, but from the way everyone— save Mr. Yakushi —gave her a wide berth, it was obvious that her abilities were nothing short of frightening.

As far as Naruto was concerned, they had a working, if not amicable, relationship. It essentially amounted to Naruto not breaking the few rules she had placed on him, and Guren basically ignoring his existence. They’d had a few conversations over the years, but they were more out of formality than anything else.

...Come to think of it, it was probably Guren’s fault that he had ended up calling Orochimaru ‘Master’.

“—has she done and— hey, are you even listening?”

Naruto blinked. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

Anko grit her teeth ferally. It was… cute.

“Sorry,” he apologized. Apologizing was easy. It was a simple solution that avoided any senseless antagonism. “I’ll let Guren know that you think so highly of her.”

“You have a strange sense of humor, Naruto.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Prat!” She smacked his shoulder again. This time, it really hurt. Maybe he should have told her earlier.

“Do you know why you’re leaving?”

Anko slowly dragged a finger down his cheek, towards the tip of his chin. “Ohh? Will little Naruto miss me while I’m gone?”

“You’re more bearable than most people.”

“Harsh!” Anko exclaimed, a hand over her chest as if mortally wounded. “But I’ll take it. I knew you loved me.”

In classic Anko fashion, she then proceeded to try and hug the life out of him. She was also vigorously rubbing her breasts against his back.

Naruto took a deep breath and consciously ignored her. If she identified even the slightest reaction, the woman would take it as encouragement, and then he’d never get her to stop.

“Do you know why you’re leaving?” he repeated.

“You’re such a spoilsport,” Anko frowned. “Would it kill you to react a little?” Sighing at his empty expression, she continued. “Anyway, Orochimaru said something about some _special_ experiment, so he’s going to send out several people to the South Base. Something about very important and secret stuff.”

“You’re a shinobi. Secret and shadows are in the job description.”

Anko let out a long-suffering sigh. “I swear, Kabuto’s been a bad influence on you. Reading those _history_ books have made you addled.”

Naruto arched an eyebrow. “You get to _be_ a shinobi. I get to _read_ about being one.”

“Pfft! You really obsess over weird stuff. Honestly, you have a much better life as a civilian.”

_Does she actually believe that?_

“Out there, all we’ve got is killing and killing and more killing,” Anko continued, oblivious to his thoughts. “Even your little sweetheart is happy that you get to stay here.”

_She makes it sound like I have a choice._

He didn’t. For all the experimentation that he had undergone, the Master was scarily protective of him. One of the lab-workers had accidentally knocked into him during a procedure once.

Naruto never saw that man again.

“About this experiment, do you think I’ll be able to come...” he trailed off, almost afraid to say his wishes out loud.”

“Who knows? Anything’s possible, and Orochimaru’s giving a lot of importance to the mission. Even Kabuto’s going with me.”

Naruto’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, surprising ain’t it?” Anko asked. “You’d think the worm would prefer to stay with his _Lord Orochimaru,”_ she trailed in a nasally voice, “during this great experiment.”

“You are really good at trash-talking,” he commented.

“I can fart in seven different ways too. What’s your point?”

Naruto sighed. No matter the conversation, Anko would always have the last word. Why was he even surprised?

“Anyway, I’ll be going now.” She hugged him again, this time a lot tighter, before letting go. “ See you… uhm, sometimes, I guess.” Her body flickered for a second as she waved, and then she was gone.

“Sure,” Naruto replied to the empty cliff.

Of all the people he’d known in his short life, Anko was probably the most _forward_. With the way she wore her heart on her sleeve and how she went traipsed along as a little ball of sunshine, it was hard to not instinctively trust her. And for all the time he’d known her, Anko had never once lied to him. Even her flirting was genuine, and she knew that he knew it.

And yet, underneath her flirtatious and exuberant behavior, he could recognize her for who she really was.

For _what_ she really was.

She might not have known it, but he had once watched her slaughter _droves_ of people without the slightest change in expression. There was a reason why the Master had chosen her as an apprentice and a recipient of his Cursed Seal of Heaven.

That was why despite all the moments they shared, no matter how close she tried to get to him, he had never let himself forget what she was.

A _monster._

* * *

For fourteen years, the island-laboratory in the middle of the endless sea had been the center of his existence. It had been the place he had learned to walk and speak. It had been the place where he had made his first friends. Under the Master’s supervision and command, this was the place he had begun to associate with the idea of ‘home’.

But with age came wisdom, and _home_ had slowly begun to lose its meaning as he realized what it was.

A gilded cage.

A _prison_.

Naruto knew he wasn’t a prisoner, because he knew exactly _who_ the prisonerswere and _what_ happened to them. The Master’s favored shinobi captured them and brought them to this place. They were then kept underneath this vast laboratory, inside an underground colosseum of sorts. He had never seen it in person, but had heard more than enough to construct vivid images in his mind.

A subterranean fortress made of metal and stone, keeping all kinds of deadly entities— some human, others not so much. All of them had but a single thing common.

They were not _ordinary._

Some of them had special abilities, others an affinity for rare elements. Several were prisoners of war, captured from distant lands, and a select few were given power through the master’s experiments.

And even among this group, there was a section of prisoners that were deemed _special_.

These were people with _bloodlines._

Bloodlines, the Master called them. Members of clans and large families that were either separated or had survived an extinction or war. The Master’s private personnel were dedicated to bringing these people in, imprisoning them, and then forcing them to battle one other. The ones that showed potential were extracted and trained to become a part of the Master’s forces.

That was unless said prisoner proved to be stubborn, in which case the warden would tear the prisoner apart and then the medics used the remains for research.

This applied to all the prisoners, except for Naruto himself.

For as long as he could remember, he had _never_ been mistreated. Not even by the Master himself. He had a tiny, spartan room for himself, with a single rock bed and a pillow for comfort. On average, the medics would call for him twice a week, then attach him to a giant contraption that drained a lot of blood from him. Sometimes, they would also inject different drugs into his body and then keep him under observation.

On rare occasions, Mr. Yakushi would come in to talk about a variety of topics in the meantime and give him books to read. The older boy was a fountain of knowledge, though he preferred to maintain a certain distance from loud, boisterous people.

It was more than likely that his personal distaste for Anko’s behavior had been a result of Mr. Yakushi’s influence.

But that was the extent of his treatment.

No deathmatches. No training. Nothing about being instructed in the ways of the shinobi. And judging by how Mr. Yakushi skirted around the topic of formal training, there was no chance for Subject-19 to ever receive any.

It was a gilded cage. And inside of it, Naruto would be a prisoner for life.

Just like it always was.

That was, unless— and he really hoped so —today, he’d get to leave this base and go to the Southern Hideout. He didn’t really know where it was, or even _what_ it was, but at least it would introduce some variety to his monotonous life.

“Ah, Namikaze. How good to see you this morning.”

Naruto spun around, only to meet the Master’s sharp gaze. Lord Orochimaru, or _the Master_ , as Guren once taught him, was a rare presence on the island. On the off-chance he was present, the man was either talking to the men-in-coats or busy with all sorts of calculations involving some pretty odd-looking symbols. Probably a different language, but the Master seemed to use them to solve complex problems— mathematical equations of sorts.

Naruto didn’t really understand them, per se, but he did feel a strange sense of familiarity towards the symbols, as if he had seen them in some half-forgotten dream.

“Have I caught you at a bad time, Namikaze? You seem unusually reflective.”

Mentally, Naruto let out a sigh. For some reason, the Master had always called him _Namikaze_. He had looked into various texts from Mr. Yakushi’s library, but had gotten no matches among the ancient warring clans. Then again, he didn’t have a bloodline either, so it was probably not a clan’s name.

As far as he could tell, it was as good a surname as any.

Naruto Namikaze.

“I met Anko a while ago.”

“Ah.” The man smiled knowingly.

“And I was wondering….”

“If you’re going to be leaving as well?”

Naruto waited for what seemed like an acceptable interval to denote considerable thoughtfulness, before slowly nodding his head.

“...Yes.”

Orochimaru smiled. There was nothing alarming about it. Just a genial, relaxed smile, albeit one that told Naruto that he was missing something. A hidden joke that he wasn’t yet privy to.

“Yes, you will. After today, you won’t be seeing this lab ever again.”

Naruto’s eyes widened. “So I’ll be… joining Anko?”

“In time, I presume. Anko will be leaving for a mission shortly, so you’ll be joining Kabuto instead. I am told you’re fond of him.”

“He gives me books to read.”

“Reading edifies the mind,” Orochimaru confirmed. “A rather healthy habit. It’s nice to see you making good choices, Namikaze.”

“So what about the others….” Naruto started, before pausing. It wouldn’t do to push his luck with the Master. The warden had warned him about it several times.

“The others?”

“My friend…”

“Ah, Tayuya, my valiant shinobi. I’m told she’s back.”

“She is?” His expression brightened. The last time he had seen her was over three weeks ago. She, along with the rest of the Sound Four, had left on a mission in Iwa. If she was back, she was probably looking for him by now.

“To my knowledge, yes,” Orochimaru replied airily. “But unfortunately, I’m afraid you won’t be seeing her for a while.”

“Oh.”

Naruto felt a sharp pang in his chest. There weren’t many people he could associate with on this island. Anko was an almost welcome respite from the day-to-day testings on his body. Mr. Yakushi was another reprieve, even though he mostly only gave him books to study. It wasn’t much, but at least the influx of knowledge made him feel like he was doing something different.

He’d probably never see the world outside this island, beyond the horizon, but it cost nothing to dream. But if there was one person he could genuinely consider his friend, it would be Tayuya.

And now, he’d be taken away from her. Possibly for a long, long time.

His friend. His… only friend in this place.

“Is there something you would like to say?”

Orochimaru’s voice broke him out of his reverie. Realizing that he had an angry expression on his face, Naruto immediately tried to force it into a mask of composure. Anger never solved matters. Logic and rationality were paramount.

Accepting a compromise was always better than death. The story of the war between Iwa and Kumo during the reign of the Second Raikage had taught him that.

And yet...

“I— I was just wondering—”

“Yes?” The Master’s smile widened.

“Can Tayuya come with me? Wherever I’m being sent?”

Orochimaru seemed to consider the matter. “She synergizes well with the rest of her team, so breaking up the Sound Four will be rather detrimental to my forces.”

He paused for a moment.

“In fact, I’m quite sure that pulling her out would upset Kimimaro, and you know how quick he is to anger.”

It took all of Naruto’s willpower not to contradict him. Kimimaro was the leader of the Sound Four, and from what Tayuya had told him, Kimimaro _never_ got angry. From his books, he had learned that anger was a potent weapon in the hands of a shinobi. Make an opponent enraged and he’d start to make mistakes.

Kimimaro was the antithesis of that. The more you tried to stoke his rage, the more placid and focused he became.

“Perhaps if you would…” he began, before clamping his mouth shut. Had he really lost his mind? For all the man’s honeyed words, Naruto held no false suspicions about what sort of a man Orochimaru really was.

“Yes?”

“...Never mind. I’m sorry. Could I spend the day with Tayuya then, if I’m not going to see her for a long time?”

Orochimaru seemed to consider that for a moment. “Alright. Also, Namikaze? _”_

“...Yes?”

“Come to the top floor tonight. Kabuto tells me you’re quite the history-lover. Perhaps it's time you got to know a little bit about your own. Who knows when you might get another opportunity like this. Best not waste it, right?”

“Top… floor?” Naruto swallowed. Guren had warnedhim to never wander into that part. It was out of bounds for everyone, save Mr. Yakushi. Even the esteemed warden wasn’t allowed in. “Of course. Thank you, Master.”

“Now off you go,” the Master waved him off. “Spend the day with your friend. Both of you deserve it.”

Naruto had a strange suspicion that he was still missing something, but he knew better than to press the Master about it.

“I will.”

The Snake Sannin’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “And I’ll say this once, and only once. Take _all_ the time you need.”

* * *

The gargantuan fortress on the island was home to many secrets. The castle was infinitely old and infinitely horrible, full of dark passages and high ceilings and cobwebs and shadows. Between the crumbling stones that made up the walls and the rotting smell of corpses from the dungeons below, this was precisely the kind of place where all sorts of gothic nightmares came to life.

_And I get to call this shithole home._

Tayuya rushed up the steep stairwell and found herself on the first floor, directly opposite to a large room on the other side.

_Our room._

Officially the room was his, but ever since she’d met Naruto, she started spending more and more time here instead of at her own room, which was all the way on the other side of the fortress. That was where the rest of the Sound Four lived. And since they transformed their rooms into some training ground, Tayuya didn’t think it could even be called a _room_ anymore.

She scoffed. As far as she was concerned, Naruto’s room was _her_ room.

Thankfully, Lord Orochimaru was cool with it. Even if the rest of the shinobi world had a gigantic stick up their ass about things like male-female relationships and _proper behavior_ and all that shit, he was refreshingly open-minded about it.

And unlike that cocksucker Kabuto, she didn’t have to kiss Orochimaru’s ass twenty-four-seven. As long as she did her job well, the man didn’t give a damn about how she spent her days.

Or nights, for that matter.

Not that she gave two fucks about what anyone else thought.

She pushed the door open and stepped in.

The room was empty.

Immediately, Tayuya leapt onto the bed. If Naruto wasn’t here, he was probably at the cliff, doing his daily thing. Staring at the rising sun every morning was pretty dull if you asked her, but he seemed to find meaning in the ritual. Maybe if she was a little more human, she’d have found some meaning in it too.

_For fuck’s sake, I need to go find him._

Stepping out of the room, Tayuya considered the structure around her. This castle’s high walls and deep dungeons kept hundreds of souls prisoner for decades. For people like her who were _sensitive_ to such things, it was like walking through a murder scene— while said murder was being committed.

Tayuya shuddered. No matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise, the idea was _arousing._

_Naruto… Where the fuck are you?_

Her footsteps hastened in frequency.

This— this aggression, this insanity, this was why she fucking _hated_ being alone. The faggots she called her comrades shared her taste for violence, so she could ignore the whispers in their presence. With Naruto, she could close herself off from the rest of the world.

But when she was alone?

That was when the real horrors began.

Tayuya knew she was a warmonger. Aggression pumped through her veins. The sounds of kunai slicing through flesh made her heart skip a beat. Mindless carnage and delirium enthralled her. It was as if her only purpose was to bring about the world’s demise.

She wasn’t sure how much of that was from being host to the primeval demon Mōryō, and how much was just because she was a fucked up bitch.

Her legs moved faster and faster.

_Naruto…_

She was running now, the delirium was slowly clawing away at her. She shouldn’t have stepped into the castle so soon after their mission. It was too early. She should have stayed back and trained with her team until her body adapted to the castle’s spiritual stench.

But she didn’t. She rushed in to see Naruto. She chose to meet him instead of playing it safe.

And now, she was paying the price.

The bells were ringing in her ears. Those that laid waiting in the darkness would start moving, and they would bring in death and destruction. The bells would not be unrung. The bells would—

_Naruto. I need him. NOW._

Her footsteps faltered and wobbled, falling into disarray. Her heart was beginning to beat faster and faster. Her lips quivered as a strange mix of pain and ecstasy began to brim inside her like molten magma.

_Naru—_

“Oh, hey— WAIT!”

**CRASH!**

Any sane person would have tried to stand up and backed away after knocking into someone. Instead, Tayuya grabbed the person below and hugged him. Hard. The sounds of the temple bell, the alien booming noise which only seemed to reverberate louder and louder with each passing second— it all softened, slowly retreating back into the inky darkness it came from.

It was _maddening_.

Tayuya, now hanging onto her companion for dear life, only hugged him harder. He was probably babbling about something, he always did, but it didn’t matter. She had found him. He had found her. And she would be safe now.

 _They_ would be safe now.

The last of the bells had ceased ringing, and Tayuya finally managed to push her head up. Several dozen curses reflexively flitted through her mind in rapid succession.

_How dare the idiot go loitering into the castle?_

_Didn’t the ass know how dangerous it could be?_

_How could he have been so fucking—_

Her eyes met his gaze.

And everything melted away.

Just like that, a wave of _something_ rushed through her. Calming her, composing her, lowering her inhibitions...

_I should say something._

“Uh… hey.”

Ugh, that was so stupid. Of all the things she could’ve said, why the hell did she say _that_?

“You’re back!” Naruto grinned.

The infectious expression shattered through all of Tayuya’s carefully constructed barriers, who started to mimic his grin without even realizing it. This— this was her salvation. This was what had kept her sane all these years. This was—

“Why were you running? You could’ve hurt yourself.”

Tayuya looked away. She had never told Naruto about the whole her-being-a-host-to-a-demon thing. About the curse she carried, and how important his presence was in keeping her from becoming a nightmare over the years.

She wasn’t the type to get all mushy like that.

There were a few times in the past where she wanted to blurt something, the desire to come clean overwhelming her mind. Kinda like now.

“Tayuya—”

_I should tell him. Tell him about—_

“What’s wrong? Why are you—”

_Tell him! But… but what if— what if he hates me and— the fuck is—_

The rest of her thoughts vanished as she felt herself shaking. Or rather, being bodily shaken by an apprehensive Naruto.

“What the— are you doing?” she asked, as he kept trying to shake her like she was some kind of toy.

“You weren’t responding. I was trying to wake you up.”

“I— I’m awake.”

“Good. Want to get up? My back’s hurting.”

“Huh— oh,” Tayuya’s cheeks pinked slightly as she pushed herself off. She had been sitting on him, her entire form on his midsection. “Sorry?”

Naruto chuckled. “What’s with you today? Master told me that you arrived, but why were you running?”

“Because— well, because I wanted to meet you, and tell you that I’m back.”

“...Right.”

Tayuya scowled. Where was her naturally abrasive personality when she needed it? She really needed to pull herself together. It felt like every time Naruto talked to her, she turned into a pile of pudding. Meek, shy, _weak_.

“And you,” Naruto sniffed at her, doing his best impression of a fox. “You’re _smelly._ Go take a bath.”

Tayuya punched him on the shoulder with a scowl, doing her best not to flinch when he did. She really needed to stop being so reactive.

“My shoulder’s fulfilled its quota of hits for the day,” he dryly stated, rubbing his shoulder. “You done?”

“Damn right I am,” she retorted. “I’ll go meet my f— my teammates first, and—”

“No, you won’t,” Naruto pressed, looping his hand into hers and pulling her towards his room.

 _Their_ room.

“You’re gonna take a bath first. Everything else can wait.”

Tayuya allowed herself to get dragged away, easily falling in pace with her friend. It was moments like this that made all her suffering worth it. It had been three years since she had first encountered a terrified Naruto, shaking with horror in the dungeons. She had found him, gotten him back to safety, watched over him as he was plagued by nightmares day in and day out. She had allowed him to hold her for comfort.

In general, Tayuya hated any kind of physical contact that didn’t involve her maiming someone else. But for some reason, it was different with Naruto. It was something she couldn’t explain and didn’t really want to think about, but it just felt right.

Like she found a piece of herself that she had long forgotten.

Looking at him reminded her of when she was just like him. Before the horror that had descended upon her village. A time of innocence, smiles, and brightness. Maybe that’s what she saw in him.

A fragmented memory of what she could have been.

An innocent Tayuya.

She hated the thought, but a stupid, trusting, naive part of her couldn’t bear to let go of it. That perhaps through preserving Naruto’s innocence, her own demons would fade away with time.

It was a dream.

A stupid, selfless, hopelessly impossible dream. A lie in the truest sense of the word.

And yet, it was beautiful.

Tayuya latched onto it with everything she had.

For in that lie, she too could be saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> ~The BlackStaff and NightMarE~


	3. Act 1 - Beyond the Horizon | Chapter 2 - Reaching for a Dream

_This hurts so much…_

Karin bit her lip, closing her eyes as she tried to ignore the dull throb in her veins. The shackles on her wrists rattled, the sounds grating to her ears. One would have thought that seventeen months of suffering would have gotten her used to this, but that was not the case.

Meanwhile, the automated syringes, designed to extract her blood continued without pause or feeling.

At least they were machines, beings incapable of emotion. They wouldn't know right from wrong. For all the pain that the syringes and the horrible machine connected to them caused her, they were not comparable to her silent captives.

What excuse did they have?

Maybe her mother was right— Healing was in her blood.

She was born for it.

And now, she'd die because of it.

She considered the large room around her. There was a bathroom on the left, and a large window with sharp iron grills on the right. During the day, sunlight would flood into the chamber, and at night there was naught but darkness.

As a little girl, Karin had been scared of the darkness.

Now?

Even the very notion felt hilarious.

Her first nights inside this hell came to mind. She had shrieked and cried and pleaded and begged for someone— _anyone_ — to save her.

Her plight had gone unanswered.

It had taken weeks before Karin learned to ignore it. Ignore it like every other thing that had ravaged her life.

Even when her mother died, she had not felt such helplessness. She had no control over her own life.

No matter what she did or what tantrum she threw, it would be met with the same result. She would be knocked out and then strapped back into the dreadful machine.

And still, her captors would not speak to her.

Not a single word.

Karin found that despite all her efforts she could do _nothing_.

And so she waited.

Waited with nothing but the sound of her shackles for company.

Waited as the scientists came in day after day, with new reports and tests.

Karin sighed. She was spiraling again. She really needed to distract herself with something else. Her arms were starting to feel heavy anyway. Perhaps if she could get some sleep…

But no, that wouldn't be an option. She knew the schedule. Every six hours the machine would finish its cycle and the large metallic door in front of her would open, and two men, dressed in white coats, and rubber masks would walk into the chamber. They never spoke, never uttered a word, no they simply went around conducting their jobs with an almost machine-like efficiency.

It would start with the restraining. A cloth gag would be forced into her mouth while they'd inject something intravenously into her body.

What happened afterward was a mystery to her because she usually ended up blacking out for hours.

And then when she'd wake up, she'd find herself in fresh clothing, lying on her bed, her arms bandaged up to the shoulder, her hair wet, and the feeling of utter violation seeping into her soul.

The first few times it had happened, Karin had screamed and yelled and lashed in anger and frustration.

Now, she had no more tears to shed.

The pain was flaring now, but that would fade as her accursed bloodline would begin to heal her.

It always did.

Her bloodline would keep her from dying. The white-coats kept her from living. She had contemplated suicide several, several times. And honestly, it wouldn't be all that difficult. Between the syringes, the large machine, and the shackles, ending this nightmare was more than possible.

And yet she hadn't.

Hadn't chosen the easy way out because of a reason. A _stupid_ reason.

_Hope._

Karin was a sensor and a ridiculously powerful one at that. She could easily spot and discern chakra signatures within the surrounding kilometer. It was this ability that told her that she was on an island somewhere in the middle of the sea— far away from any and all communications. It told her that the island was frothing with chakra.

It told her that said chakra belonged to _monsters._

And yet, there existed a single ray of hope within it all. A single individual with chakra warm and bright and incredibly large. It was almost like bathing in the light of the morning sun. This strange person lived there, on this very island. He moved around, seemingly unrestricted, which told her that he wasn't a prisoner. And yet, he had never come to the top floor.

Never.

There were moments when Karin wondered if this person knew about her. Would he let her out if she could find him? What kind of person would he be?

Dreams about this strange individual plagued her nights.

It was no exaggeration. The dark fear of losing this ray of hope kept her from doing anything reckless and stupid.

For a powerful sensor like her, the feeling of this _warmth_ was like a soothing balm to her soul. Like finding an oasis after being trapped in a desert for weeks. With all the darkness that the entire place seemed to exude, with the nightmares that tormented her dreams every night, it was the only thing that kept her steady. Kept her sane.

Kept her from dying.

 _I wonder…_ Karin mused as her eyes began to feel heavy. _Will I dream about him again?_

* * *

"I don't want you to go."

Tayuya's face scrunched up as she glared at the ceiling. She was currently lying on Naruto's lap, the blonde ruffling through her bright crimson hair. She often teased him for having a hair fetish, much to Naruto's consternation.

Naruto had the best reactions. Not taking advantage of them would just be silly.

Though if she were honest with herself, Tayuya did have an absurd fascination with his hair. His unkempt stubborn blonde hair that would merrily disregard any and all attempts to be combed down both amused and vexed her to no end.

Not that she'd ever tell him that.

"That's not really in our hands now, is it?" Naruto asked gently from above.

Tayuya scowled at the question, grumbling to herself as she turned over and buried her face into his lap. It didn't help, but the sudden darkness did feel a tad more comfortable than staring at the white ceiling above her.

"...sorry?" Naruto offered.

"I'm not mad, stupid," Tayuya let out "just… it's so unfair. Why do you have to leave?"

Naruto remained silent, his hand stroking her head in his unique, infuriatingly gentle manner. It was calming in ways Tayuya could never understand, but she'd be damned if she stopped him from doing it anyway.

Tayuya let out a reluctant sigh.

If there was one thing that her selection as a host of Mōryō had taught her, it would be loss.

The loss of her family, her friends, and control over her own life.

The loss of her _happiness_.

She had gained different things in its stead too.

The overwhelming power of hosting a god.

The obeisance of a village that followed her every whim.

And yet, despite all of that, she was always _alone_. Nothing good ever happened to those she got close to. None of the few friends she had made there were still alive.

All of this had lead to the creation of one simple rule—

Don't get attached to things. Learn to let go.

It was easier that way.

Except for now.

Tayuya snuggled deeper into Naruto's lap. She had most definitely broken her core rule here. She was nothing if not attached. She didn't even know how it happened. At first, he was just a kid she saw on occasion.

A _civilian_.

Someone who had gotten lost, and needed to be shown the way.

Back then he had been a nuisance. Now? She couldn't imagine going back to the lonely existence she was before him.

But Lord Orochimaru was going to take him away. And displeasing the man was not something Tayuya ever, _ever_ wanted to do.

She had thought she had known the human capacity to destroy. She had thought herself an incarnation of the Demon.

And then she met Orochimaru.

He was no man. He was a monster in the truest sense of the term.

And going against him would only leave death and carnage behind.

"I— I just don't— I— AARRGGHH!" Tayuya screamed in frustration, loathing herself for her inability to make a firm decision.

God, she was pathetic.

She had lived with Naruto for years now but she had never been able to tell him the truth. The fear of seeing Naruto look at her in fear and revulsion overcame her every time she tried to muster the courage to face her demons and come clean.

She couldn't fight against Naruto's departure either, because Lord Orochimaru would be displeased.

And she knew exactly what happened to people that displeased him.

Still, she couldn't accept her master's decision because her own feelings were killing her from the inside.

She felt Naruto ruffle her hair. For some reason, the act felt oddly cathartic.

"Tell me," Naruto asked, his gentle tone calming her down. "Did the Master give you any new orders?"

Tayuya bobbed her head and murmured something under her breath. Earlier, Sakon had arrived with a missive from the Lord. They were supposed to leave sometime the next morning for one of the bases in Suna.

She'd be stuck there while Naruto would be taken from her.

"I'm supposed to leave tomorrow morning for Suna. Long job."

"That's… bad."

Tayuya lifted her head and glared at him for his understatement. Did he really not understand what he meant to her?

"Maybe I can ask him to send me with you in—" Naruto began.

"NO!" Tayuya nearly shouted as she grabbed his shirt, "You have no idea how dangerous it is there. You aren't coming with me. No way. No fu— further discussion on this."

Naruto looked confused. "Then you're fine with me leaving?"

Not for the first time, Tayuya wanted to tear at her hair in frustration. Had this been any other person, she'd probably have been swearing at them with cuss words that would make a sailor blush like a bride. And that was even assuming that she hadn't already killed the person and set the entire place on fire for good measure.

But with Naruto? Not a chance.

"I'm not," She replied in a small voice. "But… I don't want you to go."

"Then I won't," Naruto stated simply.

"Won't— what— you!" Tayuya stared at him, flabbergasted at his expression before she finally managed to push out a single word out of her mouth. " _How?"_

"I'll ask the Master. Nicely I mean. Maybe he will reconsider sending me too?"

Tayuya suppressed a snort. She had tried to keep him _safe_ from the darkness of the cut-throat world around him, but she knew that even Naruto couldn't be _that_ oblivious.

"And what if—" Tayuya composed herself, "what if he says no?"

Naruto looked thoughtful. "Then… then we run away."

Tayuya wanted to laugh. Laugh at him and his obliviousness. Laugh at the hopelessly confident expression on the teen's face. Did he not know just how strong the people guarding the island were? Even if he had somehow ignored the bitch, Guren, had he forgotten about the monsters that lurked beneath this island? Had he—

"He's asked me to go to the top floor tonight," The teen went on in earnest, "I'll talk to him. The Master isn't as irrational as you think. Mr. Yakushi spends so much time around him and he seems pretty alright."

Only someone that hadn't met _Kabuto_ on a mission would say something as stupid as that.

Tayuya decided not to shatter the teen's image of Kabuto. It wasn't worth it, especially since he was supposed to leave with Kabuto the next morning.

_Kabuto is good to him. That's more than enough._

"I don't think Lord Orochimaru is the kind to change his mind like that," she began slowly.

Naruto shook his head. "I understand Guren trying to make me super-afraid and formal," He went ahead to imitate a false shudder, "when the Master is around, but he never raises his voice around me. He's kind of nice."

It couldn't be farther from the truth. And yet, Tayuya couldn't exactly refute that statement. Not just the Master, but _no one_ misbehaved with Naruto in general. Even the ever-stoic warden seemed to develop a temporary un-bitchy facade where he was concerned. Not that Naruto knew that. Tayuya wouldn't tell him either— The teen was the only existing shard of innocence in her world and she'd be damned before she destroyed it herself..

" — times I wonder why he even does that?"

"Huh?"

Naruto scrunched up his face, looking down at his friend in annoyance, "you weren't even listening."

Tayuya giggled. She couldn't help it. His puppy-eyed expression was way too cute.

Keep laughing, why don't you!" The teen grumbled making her laugh even harder, much to his consternation. Finally, he got so irritated that he pulled her waist towards him and began to tickle her relentlessly, making her squirm.

 _If nothing else,_ Tayuya thought as Naruto did his best to tickle her to death, _this is a good way to end it all._

* * *

Night had befallen the island sooner than Naruto had expected.

The top-floor, unlike the rest of the fortress, had an entirely different style of architecture. Unlike the mostly spartan features that decorated the other floors, this one looked like it was made for a ruler in mind.

"Ah Namikaze, you're early."

Naruto spun to his left at the sudden voice. Standing in front of him was the Master.

"Master," Naruto began, inclining his head into a slight bow.

The Master raised a finger, pausing him midway, before lifting a finger and curling it inwards. "Follow me."

Silently, Naruto bobbed his head and began to follow him.

A thin smile floated across the Master's face. "You have something on your mind."

Naruto's forehead puckered as he looked up to match the Master's gaze. "It's nothing, Master."

The Master's lips twitched in amusement.

Naruto gesticulated but didn't say anything.

"I see." The Master looked thoughtful for a moment before abruptly changing the subject. "Well, come along now. We have a lot of things to do tonight, and perhaps I'll tell you a bit about your own past as well."

Naruto's face glowed in elation. "Really?"

The Master smiled. It was quite possibly the purest smile Naruto had ever seen on his face.

He began to walk ahead, and Naruto followed behind him. "Tell me Namikaze, what motivates you? What do you look forward to in life?"

Naruto stayed silent, his expression dulling up in confusion. What did he want to do with his life? It was a question he had never considered, having been seen by most people as an object to be used.

For the white-coats, he was a test-subject. For Anko, he was probably someone she could get away with molesting. For Tayuya, he was someone that made her feel comfortable. For the Master he was—

"Do you know what drives me, Namikaze?" The calm voice interrupted his musings.

"...What?"

"Jutsu."

The Master's voice was strangely exuberant. Naruto could _feel_ that every word coming out of the man's lips was nothing but the absolute truth. Or at least what he believed to be the truth.

"I want to gain a true understanding of everything in this world. The first one to mix blue and yellow called the new color "green". I want to do something similar. If we extend the analogy here— blue is the nature transformation, yellow is the chakra, and red is the ability to manipulate it.. Just as there is no end to the variety of color, there are so many thousands...tens of thousands of jutsus in the world as well." The Master said softly as he looked at Naruto measuring.

"Can you comprehend the breadth of that dream?"

Naruto swallowed. He had _some_ idea about what jutsus were supposed to be about. From what he read techniques essentially had three requirements. The first was the raw chakra reserves. Different techniques needed varying amounts of chakra and one couldn't perform a technique if they didn't meet its raw power requirements. The second was the nature transformation. One couldn't use a fireball if they couldn't produce fire chakra after all. The final component was control. The actual manipulation of the transformed chakra by which one gave their technique form.

The _jutsu_.

From what Tayuya had told him, jutsus were _hard_ to learn, and most shinobi usually spent their lives perfecting the ones they knew.

"All the jutsus in the world?" Naruto started incredulously "That would take forever and—" He covered his mouth immediately, cursing himself for the slip.

Orochimaru chuckled.

"I have no need for yesmen, Naruto. To hear an unfiltered opinion is refreshing."

"Uhm…. thank you?"

Orochimaru lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. "I'm glad that you realize the magnitude of the effort and time required to fulfill my dream. But even so, it is beautiful. And surely one who understands everything can truly be called the Ultimate Being. That," he looked down at Naruto, "that was my goal."

Naruto perked up at that. "Was?"

The snake-sannin gave him a lop-sided grin. "Was. It took me decades to realize the futility. For all my talents, I am but a single man. I cannot keep up with the march of human ingenuity. Progress races faster than I can ever learn. As such, it is but a fool's dream."

"To do alone." Naruto surmised.

Orochimaru smiled. "I can see why Kabuto has taken a liking to you. You have a smart mind, just like your father."

"My father? You knew my father?"

A shadow of… something flickered over the man's face. "I did. His name was Minato. Minato Namikaze."

 _Minato Namikaze._ Naruto repeated within his mind as if wanting to etch it in his very soul.

"But I digress," Orochimaru went on, almost ignorant of Naruto's expression, "that is why I started to create something that could succeed where I couldn't. To learn faster than I ever could. Grow at a rate unprecedented and unthought of. Something that would allow me to reach my dream— become a transcendental entity that understands everything there is to understand in this world."

Naruto stared at him, slack-jawed.

"So tell me Naruto Namikaze _,_ what is it you truly desire?"

Naruto fidgeted, unable to face the man, or rather, at the blatant honesty the man was displaying. There were several things he wanted. He opened his mouth and thought about the sunrise he witnessed every morning, the one that made him wish to leave the island and see the world. He thought about the dungeon and wanted to ask for answers. He thought about the island, the fortress, and the experiments that the white-coats ran on him.

And then a single image floated in front of his eyes.

_I don't want you to go._

"I don't want to leave Tayuya. No matter what."

The words flowed out of his lips before he knew it. Naruto cringed at his own bluntness, but the damage was done.

"No matter what…" Orochimaru repeated the words as if tasting how they felt. "Determination. I suppose I can respect that. Tell me Namikaze, would you like to make a deal?"

"...Deal?"

"A bargain if you will. You give me a little, you get a little. If you make me happy, I'll make sure that both you and Tayuya will stay here for the considerable future. What do you say?"

Naruto stilled. He had heard enough about the Master to know one single fact.

What Lord Orochimaru wanted, Lord Orochimaru got. There were no two ways about it. And yet— What did he have to lose?

His body shook with tension but his lips moved, almost on their own. "What do I have to do?"

The smile on the Master's lips threatened to tear his face apart. "It is why you are here. Over the years, my precious army has gotten me dozens of interesting… candidates that could serve as a host for my technology, allowing me to develop it further. Unfortunately, none of them have been… fruitful."

A memory of the dungeon flitted in Naruto's mind. It was a nightmare that he hadn't been able to forget over the years. He shivered.

"All right." He replied, pulling a brave face.

"I have reasons to believe that you can be a possible candidate for this… technology. I want you to not fight the process, and willfully assimilate it into your body. Run some diagnostic tests. That's it."

Naruto looked at the man flabbergasted. "That's it?"

Orochimaru arched an eyebrow. "Did you expect something more stressful?"

"...No, just surprised. I'm sorry."

Do not fret." Orochimaru commanded. "So, are we in agreement?"

Naruto couldn't understand what the Master wanted to achieve through this seemingly simplistic agreement between them, but his gut told him it was anything but good. A part of him understood the reason why Tayuya had been so negative about his plans. He remembered all the warnings Guren had given him too.

But the deal had been made. The bargain had been struck.

"I… I accept."

"Hah!" Orochimaru chortled as he extended his hands to meet Naruto's. "Then we have an accord."

Naruto's eyes didn't leave the man's gaze as he grabbed his hand and shook it.

"We have an accord."

* * *

_I am a fucking retard._

Tayuya cursed herself under her breath as she raced out of the second floor. How could she have been so _stupid?_ Lord Orochimaru had personally recruited her teammates and herself amongst hundreds of others because of several reasons, but magnanimity hadn't been one of them. And more importantly, the Sound Four had been regular in collecting new and _interesting_ shinobi for the Lord who'd then drop them into the dungeon and have Guren analyze their potential.

All of that was known and yet, there was another side of the equation. A side that she had always overlooked all this time.

Lord Orochimaru was many things, but wasteful he was not.

Every single prisoner held captive in the dungeons had something interesting about them. Whether it be a bloodline, a unique affinity, or even just good chakra-conversion capacity, none of them were ordinary. Despite all the torture and battle that the prisoners were put through, one thing was assured.

Their deaths were never futile.

Lord Orochimaru was far too pragmatic for something like that.

And yet, Guren would dispose of several dead bodies from time to time.

The question was— whose bodies were those? Why were they killed? What manner of calamity befell them and why was Guren charged with something so mundane as the disposal of the dead?

It didn't feel comforting.

And yet, it made it no less true. Tayuya knew that the white-coats were always experimenting on something or the other and the top-floor was reserved for the Lord's personal experiments but—

Tayuya had almost fallen down in shock upon the realization when it hit her.

The dead were casualties of whatever byzantine and sinister experiments the Lord performed upon them. Those bodies— perhaps their bodies weren't safe enough to be disposed of the regular way so he had Guren encase them into crystal and then dispose of them?

Was that it?

And would that— was that what he was going to do with Naruto?

No, he wouldn't. Tayuya told herself. Naruto had spoken to the Lord himself who had told him that Naruto would be leaving with Kabuto.

Which meant they wouldn't see each other anymore.

Why Lord Orochimaru would do something like this, when he had never cared about her odd relationships was beyond her. She knew that Orochimaru was sadistic beyond measure but the man was not petty.

Or at least Tayuya didn't think he was.

But that presented the question. Why had Naruto been kept imprisoned all this time? Why had the Lord called him to the first floor? Something didn't work out.

Something was wrong— Tayuya could feel it in her very bones.

And so she ran.

She crossed the laboratories on the third floor before moving past the cubicles where the white-coats stayed. On any other day, this section would be filled with people, performing their strange experiments.

Now?

Now it was fucking empty.

The sinking feeling in her stomach grew more pronounced with each passing second. Anxiety gripped her, as her thoughts about Naruto's condition grew more and more morbid. What if Lord Orochimaru caused him pain? What if he was put through one of those cursed seal experiments? What if he was screaming with unspeakable agony while begging for him to stop? What if he—

Somewhere far away, large ornate bells began to toll.

_Not now. Please not now._

But she knew better. The bells would ring every time she lost control.

Every time she allowed her emotions to get the better of her. Every time she loved someone. Every time she was concerned with someone else's safety over her own.

Every time she felt like a human.

 _Mōryō_ would traverse past the eons of darkness that was her mind. He would claw his way out through the barriers to grip her mind and soul and pull her back into the abyss.

And then death and destruction would reign once again.

Until she was left with nothing and no one.

Such was her accursed fate.

 _Please._ Tayuya begged. _Not now. I have to save Naruto. I have to— I have to save Naruto._

But the bells would not be unrung. First the smaller ones, then the larger one on the mountain top. Just like she remembered. The ones on the temple archway would follow next, waking up those that stood in darkness, waiting to enter the mortal realm and—

"NO!NO!NO!NO! Stop RINGING!"

Tayuya yelled her lungs out as she raced past the corridor that led to the stairs to the top floor, and skidded to a halt.

The large ornate door in front of her was closed.

More importantly, someone was standing in front of it, preventing her from getting to her goal.

The thing to note was the person standing in front of it. With her unruly bluish hair tying down into a long, spiky ponytail all over her green kimono, stood the warden of the island.

"Guren!" She muttered tersely.

"Tayuya..." The warden replied in a soft, indifferent tone. "It seems Lord Orochimaru was right, just as expected. He warned me you'd try to break into the top-floor, looking for the boy."

A loud, alien humming began to reverberate throughout her body. They were coming. They had heard the bell.

It took all of her mental fortitude to keep the noise from affecting her. She needed to stay in control.

"And he sent his pet whore to stop me?" Tayuya spat.

Guren's lips curled. "You are fortunate that Lord Orochimaru values your skills, else you'd have been wiping the dungeon floor with that imprudent tongue of yours." A muscle in her jaw tightened. "Lord Orochimaru has instructed you to leave this floor and return to your room. This is a direct order."

Tayuya was past listening now.

"Why does he want Naruto?"

Guren raised her chin. "Lord Orochimaru has chosen him as his new experiment. You'll see him tomorrow morning Unless he has perished. Then I will have to dispose of the body. Either way, you will be united with your lover come sunrise."

Tayuya's face hardened. "Naruto doesn't have a bloodline. He's a civilian. Why is he—?"

The rest of her words were drowned in Guren's maniacal laughter. "Civilian? _Civilian_ she says. You _fool,_ that child is the _jinchuuriki_ of the Nine-tails, the most powerful and revered of the tailed beasts. You know what _tailed-beasts_ are, right? You've experienced one first hand."

Tayuya paled.

She had the misfortune to encounter Roshi around a year ago, an event that had crushed her and nearly killed her entire team in the process. As Mōryō's former host, Tayuya had always believed her understanding of power to be superlative.

Roshi had proved her wrong.

She had strength, but what was the strength of a fledgling bird against the wrath of a hurricane?

She had power and skill, but what could a pebble do before the weight of a mountain?

Its steel teeth were larger than Kimimaro's largest bone sword. Its tails could whip a storm into submission. Great chasms opened and lava flowed like rainwater. Winds howled and whipped till the world itself cried out in pain.

Tayuya had understood why _jinchuuriki_ were feared and venerated in the shinobi world back then.

"Nine… Tails… Jinchuuriki?" She stammered.

"So, you remember," Guren was positively grinning now. "And yes, _Naruto_ is the jinchuuriki of the Nine-Tails. That is why the Lord has kept him here. Kept him tame. Till the right moment."

All color drained from Tayuya's face as she _understood_ what Guren was getting to.

"Lord Orochimaru deserves nothing but the best. And tonight, we will see if the Nine-Tails is worthy of him." Guren's tone had turned almost sycophantic now. "Tonight, our Lord will either tame the beast _completely_ or send it to meet its creator. Either way, it ends _tonight."_

Tayuya didn't answer. Her jaw was tightly shut, gnashing her teeth. It was taking every bit of her strength to not give in. To not wholeheartedly accept the darkness that threatened to flood through her veins, and let the monsters of the night tear the world apart once again.

 _Naruto…_ She told herself. _Think about Naruto._

It didn't help. Instead, it _accelerated.,_

She could picture Naruto, not as the playful boy she loved, but as the jinchuuriki of the strongest creature in the world. His eyes had lost their blue sheen. His face had lost its playful smile. Instead, fire burned in his eyes, his skin glowed with raw, corrosive flames, his heart twisted in infinite madness.

The sweet lovable boy she cherished was screaming, the monstrosity trapped inside him clawing his insides, tearing him apart into—

No. She would not allow that to happen. She would reach back into the darkness, the part of herself that she hated— she would do it for him.

As long as Naruto was okay, any and all collateral damage was fine. Up to and including herself.

And then there was silence. The bells had finally stopped ringing. For Tayuya had found her answer.

She had _chosen._

SWOOSH!

Her flute had shot out of her dress and come spinning into her right hand. This wasn't her original weapon— the power reverberating out of her had already twisted it into something else.

The warden took a step forward. "I suppose I will ask the final question. Are you going to be a loyal bitch that obeys Lord Orochimaru? Or are you a traitor that needs to be put down?"

A tall bo-staff, made out of pure crystal materialized next to the warden, its apex tapered off into an ornate spear-head.

Guren was powerful beyond belief, almost single-handedly able to hold down the fort in Orochimaru's absence.

And yet, Tayuya didn't seem to care. She stared at him, a hypnotic smile floating on her face. It was the smile that appeared on the face of a predator before it clawed its way into the heart of its prey.

It was the false peace before the arrival of a, particularly vicious storm.

It was the smile of someone that would willingly let the world burn, and watch it with a dreamy smile.

And then she began to speak.

"For years, I have held back its wrath. For years I have hidden it away. Even Lord _Orochimaru_ knew better than to try to control me through seals."

Guren frowned uncomfortably before conjuring a dozen crystal spikes behind her, ready to be shot at the slightest movement.

"Do you know why?" Tayuya's expression was serene. "Because even your Lord knows that in front of those that wait in darkness, shinobi are mere _insects._ Trash that cowers in the presence of real power."

She took a step forward.

"When they come, they devour the world. They shatter reality like glass."

The very air around her began to ebb and flow in odd directions, forming ethereal shapes.

Tayuya smiled savagely as she brought her flute to her lips.

"Do you think your crystals can hold me back?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> ~The BlackStaff and NightMarE~


	4. Act 1 - Beyond the Horizon | Chapter 3 - Enter the Demon

_The secret is to listen._

_Listen to your chakra. It sings of the soul._

_Listen to your soul. It speaks to the world._

_Listen to the world. What is it you hear now?_

Snake-summoner. Sannin. Seal master. Whisperer. Orochimaru had been called many names, lauded with many titles. But one stood out above all others.

Genius.

For one whose life’s goal was to know everything there was to learn, such a title pleased him beyond measure. The only problem was, Orochimaru knew deep down that he didn’t deserve that title. Not really. ‘Genius’ was better reserved for people like Tobirama Senju and… and as much as it physically hurt to admit it, Minato Namikaze.

No, Orochimaru wasn’t a genius. He just listened better than other people.

 _Today, be a good listener. Tomorrow, you’ll be a good student_ , Sarutobi Hiruzen used to say.

Regardless of his differences with the man on a personal level, Orochimaru held tremendous respect for The Professor’s wisdom, a moniker he more than earned.

And today, he needed that bit of wisdom more than ever. For today was finally the day of his ascension.

He took a step back and carefully observed the setup in front of him.

The boy was drugged and unconscious on a raised platform, his entire body bound to the several arms of the mighty contraption built for that purpose. He’d been stripped bare, not a single piece of cloth adorning him. The experiment didn’t really have any chance of being hindered by organic materials, but modesty was no reason to entertain an easily avoidable risk.

He glanced at the boy’s belly, at the ornately designed seal that had been placed there by Namikaze mere moments before his demise.

An Eight-Trigrams seal.

A piece of fuinjutsu that was used as the basis for trapping the nigh-invincible sapient creatures known as the tailed beasts. A weapon that allowed mere shinobi to conquer titans that could destroy the world on a whim. And yet, for all its worth, it was _imperfect_.

Limited.

For one, these seals were designed to keep the tailed beasts in. They weren’t meant to serve as makeshift generators that used the near-infinite power of those monstrosities to create a limitless chakra-battery for their hosts. The more a host drew from the tailed beast’s power, the more the seal loosened. And in time, the tailed beast would eventually escape— a situation that only ever ended with immense carnage.

But also, humans were naturally emotional creatures. When faced with desperation, it was instinct for any human to seek the aid of an external power to better the odds. Such cases often caused tailed beast hosts to lose control and channel too much power from their tailed-beasts. To prevent that from happening, most hosts were kept under house arrest for the majority of their lives, content with the knowledge that their life was being sacrificed for the good of the village.

It was why these hosts were aptly named _jinchuuriki_ — the power of human sacrifice.

There was a reason, after all, why Mito Uzumaki— feared as one of the greatest kunoichi hailing from the Uzumaki —had been reduced to a homely housewife after becoming the jinchuuriki of the nine-tailed fox.

There was a reason why Kushina, despite being one of the top jounins in Konoha, had never been sent out on anything above A-rank mission difficulty. And even then, she was always secretly monitored by multiple ANBU at all times.

And then Minato Namikaze, a _civilian-born_ shinobi, had upset the table. His ingenious combination of the sheer power of the Shiki Fujin— a fuinjutsu that evoked the powers of the Shinigami himself — and a modified Eight-Trigrams seal, had resulted in the creation of the one thing believed to be impossible across the Elemental Nations.

A perfect jinchuuriki.

To be fair, there remained a decreasing health factor caused by prolonged use of the Kyuubi’s chakra for active regeneration, but Orochimaru had already worked a way around the issue.

“Really Namikaze,” he found himself murmuring, “if only had I recognized your potential back then… things would have been so different. We could have achieved great things together.”

Orochimaru glanced at Namikaze’s child, his lips twisting into a grin.

“I’ve finally completed your unfinished legacy, Minato. You and I have created the _perfect_ jinchuuriki.”

He frowned.

“It’s a pity that you decided to give him to the village. To the old monkey and that old warhawk. One would cuddle him to uselessness, and the other would try to break him from within. Between the two, your child would never reach the zenith of his potential.”

He paused briefly.

“But talent always recognizes genius, Namikaze.” Orochimaru’s tone was almost hypnotic now. “You paved a new road, but lost your life before its forging was complete. It’s taken me thirteen long years, but I’ve finally reached it. Now the forging— _our_ creation —will be complete.”

Something terrible shone in his eyes.

“You gave your village a savior. I’ll turn it into a _god_.”

He took a step back, pinning the nearby medics with a sharp gaze. “Everything is ready. Start the assimilation program. I want no complications.”

“Yes sir!” they replied in haste, rushing in and out to gather their tools to begin. Soon, they were drawing the new seal on the plate to be inscribed and assimilated into the jinchuuriki’s body.

A pre-drawn seal would have been easier, but far less effective. The substrate for the ink had been harvested from a vitreous liquid found in the eyes of the serpents at Ryuchi Cave. Such substances tended to lose their potency very quickly, and as such, needed to be freshly prepared. The plate itself was a fusion of scales taken from the serpent’s hood.

_Garaga and I will likely never see eye to eye again._

The act had been distasteful, but a necessary evil nonetheless. Garaga wasn’t as strong as Manda, but his innate capacity for Senjutsu far exceeded the latter’s. It made his body a far superior absorber of natural energy— exactly what he needed for his project to succeed.

Orochimaru grinned.

He watched as the seal was meticulously drawn across the boy’s body. And _by god_ , it was perfect. All those hours of constant and diligent practice finally paid off.

The threat of losing a finger for each error probably helped as well.

Soon, the engraving was complete.

The contraption surrounding the boy expanded out, allowing the new plate to slide into place. The liquid shone brightly, activating the seal matrix by filling it with ambient natural energy.

The boy’s eyes flickered open, and almost immediately, he began to _scream._

Orochimaru took a step back, his heart beginning to beat faster.

He could already tell.

This...

This was going to be his magnum opus.

Once the assimilation was over, his creation would finally be complete.

* * *

A host of the Demon would eventually become a demon.

It was a truth that Tayuya had discovered when the pact was first forged, marking her as the next host for the Demon God.

Holding the mantle of a priestess of Mōryō bestowed a blessing and a curse in the form of a unique eldritch power, one that allowed them to transcend beyond the limits of mortality. For some, it would be the absolute mastery of an element. For others, it was control over that which couldn't be seen.

For Tayuya, it was Sound.

Ever since she'd adorned the mantle of Priestess, sound had ceased to be a weapon to be used in battle. It had become a part of her. Like an organ. Genjutsu preyed upon the mind, but music played upon the soul.

Like every other priest before her, she could summon the exceptionally powerful slaves that served the great Demon.

The Oni.

But unlike them, the Oni were hers. Not just to summon, but to command.

It was a secret that she had told no one. Not even Lord Orochimaru.

Besides, using Moryo’s power came at a price.

A terrible cost, but one she was more than willing to pay if it meant getting to Naruto. Tayuya smiled, serenely ignoring the horrific pain that was ravaging her mind.

And then it happened.

A deathly aura descended upon the castle, an all-consuming feeling of rage and bloodlust backed by power as unyielding as a mountain. It was a terrible sensation, akin to the primal fear experienced by a rabbit surrounded by a pack of ravenous wolves.

A moment passed, and then _he_ materialized.

It was just as she remembered.

The same pearly white necklace of skulls adorned his chest, contrasting against his dark crimson skin and ten-foot-tall frame. Thick locks of black hair fell down to his waist, his muscles thicker than tree trunks and powerful enough to level a building merely by flexing. The monster held a bloodied axe, crafted out of a strange golden metal unknown to shinobi lands, and the only pieces of attire on his entire form were a large waist-guard and a pair of metallic bracelets.

Tayuya let slip the monstrosity’s name from her lips.

“Zaraba.”

Guren, who stood with a supremely confident smirk mere moments ago, was now in a defensive stance, her countenance colored with apprehension and— if she read it correctly —fear. Already, crystals of all shapes and sizes sprouted out from the very ground, ready to be used against this new adversary at a moment’s notice.

“You….” A sneer marred the warden’s lips. “You think that some mindless summon,” she momentarily glanced at Zaraba, “will be enough to save you from me?”

Several dozen kunai manifested mid-air, all of them targeting Tayuya.

Zaraba hefted his ax and _swung_.

It was almost like a haze of… _something_ had suddenly permeated in the area. One moment, scores of kunai were shooting towards Tayuya, aimed at every inch of her visible form. Sharp enough to cut through her flesh with ease. Strong enough to shatter her bones on impact.

None of them reached her.

“Wha— How?!”

The shock on Guren’s face was priceless. She couldn’t even blame her, really. Anyone who could pulverize an entire barrage of crystals faster than the eye could track was something to be afraid of.

Zaraba yawned.

“You were saying, _bitch?”_ Tayuya grinned madly, ignoring the throbbing pain in her temples.

Guren bared her teeth. Obviously, the woman hadn’t expected things to turn out this way. Then again, this was only the second time she had summoned Zaraba. The first time had been during the massacre of the Land of Demons, and _nobody_ knew who or what caused that destruction.

After all, dead men told no tales.

Tayuya could already feel the corruption slowly trickling its way into her psyche like it always did. It seared through her like a branding iron, making her mind submit and lose itself to the torment as a primal instinct of fear consumed her, making her want to curl into a ball and _scream_. Soon, it would make her forget her reasons for summoning the Oni, fanning her bloodlust and turning her into a raging storm that left nothing but wanton destruction in its wake.

_Just like before._

And yet, she embraced it anyway.

Because she had no other choice. She needed to save Naruto, and Guren was just the beginning. Another man, one far more dangerous and terrifying than the blue-haired bitch, stood between her and Naruto.

Lord Orochimaru.

And the man was many things, but unprepared wasn’t one of them. She needed to pull out all the stops if she even wanted a chance to walk out of this alive.

Her decision was made.

“Kill that cunt,” Tayuya growled.

Zaraba stepped forward and roared. It was a grating, metallic sound, like someone dragged a smoldering mass of iron across the floor. It fit him perfectly. After all, the one element that the Oni knew better than anything was fire.

Vengeful, accursed fire.

The Oni did not charge into combat. It walked. Striding forward like an indomitable giant, it easily shouldered the barrage of crystal spears that came raining down from the other end. Guren was constantly creating sharp spears and kunai and any other kinds of weapon she could think of, all of them aimed to pierce Zaraba's skin.

Most of them just shattered upon impact.

The ones that did stick, however, Zaraba merely shrugged them off, the waves of heat rolling off him causing them to slowly fracture and turn to dust. The accursed flames burned malevolently as the monster walked towards an apprehensive Guren, who was now trying to crystallize the very air itself.

It was useless. The ax moved at speeds incomprehensible to the human eye. It didn’t matter how many crystallized weapons Guren sent towards him. They all met the same fate.

Every swing from the massive infernal ax in its hand destroyed anything Guren sent with complete abandon. The heavy weapon belched dark crimson flames wherever it struck. It left no residue, emanated no heat. All it did was consume whatever came within its grasp, not even leaving soot in its wake. Zaraba laughed and laughed cruelly as he kept on slicing and shattering every single of Guren’s pathetic attempts, brushing them away like mere toys.

“Your crystals mean nothing, fuckface,” Tayuya snarled, leaning on the nearby wall doing her best to shut out the pounding headache that was overwhelming her senses. “Give up or URR-KKKK!”

Tayuya stared blankly at the thin wooden arrow that bypassed her protector and tore through the back of her left hand, painting the floor a dull crimson.

 _Naruto_ , she thought desperately as she collapsed onto the ground, her head pounding in agony.

The thing she recalled before drifting away was the sound of Zaraba’s roar.

* * *

His lungs were on fire.

As someone who was treated like a porcelain doll his entire life, Naruto was unaccustomed to the concept of pain— or, at least, pain as any shinobi knew it. Those white-coats had injected some kind of liquid into his body, making him feel a bit funny in all sorts of places.

At first, it seemed like everything was fine.

His mounting anxiety and fear had mysteriously vanished. He had nearly giggled when the medics had placed those weird-looking contraptions over his belly. The bargain he struck with the Master was shaping up to be a good idea, and he couldn’t wait to tell Tayuya that they could stay together.

And then, out of nowhere, pain ravaged his body.

It was negligible at first, but then it grew and grew over time, as if his entire being was compressed in all sorts of ways while his innards were being pulled inside out. Naruto screamed in agony as those contraptions seemed to engrave something into his body.

A large leaden weight fell into his belly, and now it was trying to tear him apart from the inside. His mind slowly eroded, surrendering to the pain of the torment as his vision slowly faded.

And then, all that was left was darkness.

…

…

…

“—mikaze?”

…

“Namikaze?”

_Is someone calling me?_

Naruto looked around. There was nothing but darkness. He knew he had hands, but for some reason, he couldn’t see them. His belly ached and throbbed, but he couldn’t _feel_ it. Where was his body? What was this place? What had—

“Open your eyes, Namikaze.”

This time, the voice sounded almost… annoyed.

Naruto blearily opened his eyes, only to quickly shut them again as a sharp brightness inundated his world. After several bouts of blinking, he managed to turn his head and stare into the thin, fang-like pupils of his Lord Orochimaru.

“...Master?”

“Congratulations are in order, Namikaze. You’re alive.”

“I— I’m—”

“Alive, yes,” the Master grinned, with true happiness upon his face. It was a rare sight, at least as far as Naruto knew. “And dare I say, you passed with flying colors. All we have left are a few more tests to conduct. It’ll be all over soon.”

“And then I’ll be free to—”

“Of course,” Orochimaru answered, the soft grin never leaving his face. “Once this is over, you’re free to go. In fact, you’ll likely never see me ever again.”

_What does he—_

“But first,” the Master continued, “get up. Tell me, are you feeling alright?”

Naruto scrunched his face, perplexed at the Master’s wildly excited behavior. The constant headache gnawing at the back of his mind made it difficult to fully concentrate on anything, but he figured he was mostly fine. Besides, there’d be lots of time to think when this was all over. When this was all done and—

“Focus,” Orochimaru’s voice chided, shaking him out of his reveries. “This experiment is going to be done in two stages. The first is using these pieces of paper,” the Master lifted up tiny strips of paper from the table next to them. “This is what we call chakra paper. Kabuto mentioned he taught you to feel your chakra. Is that correct?”

Naruto gave him a slow nod.

“We’re going to check your affinity. Now,” he handed him a single strip of chakra paper, “hold it, and channel your chakra through it. I’m told you are able to do so.”

Naruto bobbed his head again. Interestingly enough, he had also done this before with Tayuya, during one of their random conversations, when she had agreed to teach him how to channel his chakra. She explained the feeling to be like opening a pipe of sorts inside one’s body and allowing the chakra to trickle out.

Instead, what he felt back then was more like a tidal wave.

And Tayuya jerked back, shaking her head and muttering something about ‘freakishly abnormal chakra capacities’.

Glibly, Naruto held the strip of paper between his fingers, holding it far away from him and latching onto the very edge, as if to touch it as little as possible. He’d come this far, and he didn’t want anything to go wrong when he was so _close_ to finally getting his freedom.

“Now, channel your chakra through the paper.”

Naruto reached for the chakra within him and allowed it to go… free.

The paper was sliced into two.

“Wind!” Orochimaru exclaimed with a burst of childlike laughter, clapping his hands. “I suppose you’re more like your father than your mother in that regard. Isn’t that right, Namikaze?”

“Wind,”Naruto repeated, tasting how the word sounded. According to the introductory book on nature transformation Mr. Yakushi gave him _,_ Wind was one of the rarer elemental natures out there. And while it was _technically_ possible to develop a second affinity, the general consensus agreed that Wind was an extremely difficult element to master unless you were born with it.

“My father had Wind chakra too?” It hurt to speak, but he knew the chance to learn about his parents might never come again.

“Wind and Lightning, actually,” the Master answered in a chipper tone. “Your father was one of those rare shinobi to be born with a dual affinity from birth, unlike the rest of us _poor_ folk who were born with just one.”

And wasn’t that interesting? It seemed even the Master held Minato Namikaze in great respect. Naruto couldn’t help but wonder just _who_ his father had been to have gained this much attention from the Master. His life may have been secluded, but even he knew that the Master was notorious and exalted among shinobi.

A king among killers.

“Now that we are done with the basics, let’s get on with the interesting bits,” the Master spoke airily. “The next test might be a little stressful for someone as young as yourself, but shinobi don’t have long lifespans anyway.”

“I’m not a shinobi,” Naruto pointed out. He was promptly ignored.

“In any case, let us proceed. If you die or go insane, you have permission to hate me.”

“....”

As if on cue, four shinobi were brought out by the medics.

The first two were brown-haired men, their hair long and falling past their shoulders. Both of them were bare-bodied, with identical blackish attire covering below their waist. The only accessories they wore was a pale-blue belt, with the word Lightning written on it. To Naruto’s knowledge, there was only one particular kind of shinobi that wore that sort of attire.

Kumo shinobi.

The third was a woman, clad in a revealing attire of black with white bandages entwined around her waist. Her most iconic feature was dark green hair, which developed into bright orange streaks near the edges of her parted bangs.

The fourth one was heavily disfigured, and Naruto could barely make out any of the person’s features— let alone gender. All he could see was a human body covered head-to-toe with countless gashes and burns.

All four were bound, their hands and feet in manacles. All four were wounded. He suspected they had been brought from the dungeon.

Naruto’s eyes widened.

“What— what are—” he began taking a step back instinctively. There wasn’t a single shinobi from the dungeons who wasn’t dangerous. Despite the fact that they were shackled, there was just something about them that made him instinctively uncomfortable.

“Do not fret, Namikaze. They aren’t here to attack you. They are here to… help you grow. To evolve. To transcend.”

_Transcend?_

Before the teen could actually register the thought, the Master put his right hand onto the strange seal-like thing on his belly and made a twisting motion. The strange-looking seal began to glow malevolently in a pale crimson shade as the circular engravings began to shift, almost like a lock was being opened or something strange was being released.

And then Naruto’s hand moved.

He didn’t know why or how, but the appendage moved automatically on its own, grabbing the shackled shinobi closest to him— the disfigured one, he idly noted —and placing his palm upon the man’s chest. The strange engravings flowed into his hands, before replicating at an alarming speed as they pushed out of his skin and spread all over the shinobi’s body.

The encapsulated man’s face twisted in an expression of sheer horror, and he began to scream.

Frightened, Naruto tried to pull his fingers away, but his whole hand felt glued to the man’s body, and something alien and taboo and strange began to leave the shinobi and enter his own body.

It _hurt_.

His chakra network felt like it was set aflame. Naruto opened his mouth to scream, but it was too late— the pain once again knocked him unconscious.

…

…

...

_What the—?_

The chamber had vanished. So had the Master and the unfortunate shinobi who had been put through heinous torture by whatever the Master had done. Instead, Naruto was in—

_Wait. What is this place?_

It was empty. Not exactly dark, but not illuminated either. All he could feel was emptiness and a roaring wind that, by all reason, should have blown him away. So great was the pressure behind the circulating air currents.

And then, the floor beneath his feet erupted.The earth itself cleaved open, as giant rocks tore their way through the ground like tombstones in a graveyard and surrounded him. They only stayed erect for a moment, as they immediately shattered and sent the shards flying towards him, puncturing his skin and entering his body.

His chakra burned as the taste of ash and dirt filled his mouth and—

“Open your eyes, _boy._ ”

And just like that, the spell was broken.

Blinking, Naruto looked up and gazed at the Master, before glancing at the other shinobi.

And threwhimself back out of sheer instinct.

The man, or whatever remained of him— was convulsing in agony. His entire body trembled, and by the sound of the liquid hitting the stone floor, the man had lost control over his bowels as well. His eyes were glassy, and if not for the random twitching of his legs, Naruto would’ve thought that the man was dead.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s in a state far worse than that,” the Master spoke up, as if reading his mind. Meeting Naruto’s horrified gaze, he arched an eyebrow. “What? I’ve performed this experiment dozens of times. This is hardly the worst-case scenario.”

“I— I did that?”

“Congratulations are in order, Namikaze. You’re a shinobi now.” The Master had an impatient grin on his face. “Now test your affinity again.”

A second piece of chakra paper was shoved in his hands.

Naruto channeled chakra through it once again. The paper snapped into two, just like earlier, but not before it also crumbled to dust and floated away.

“As expected,” the Master smirked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“What— what happened?” Naruto was shaking now, consciously holding back his desire to throw up. The very idea that it was _he_ who caused this man to become… whatever he was, made him uneasy. “What did I just do?”

The Master clasped his arms behind his back. “You see Namikaze, this is an Iwa shinobi. He has a natural affinity for the Earth nature, and a strong one at that. What you did there was drag that ability out of him and take it for yourself.”

“But then— why is he— what happened to him?”

The man shrugged. “A major imbalance in his chakra? The mutilation of his chakra networks? It could be due to any number of reasons. Personally, I just expected him to fall apart and die, but he somehow survived. Hmmm…” He cupped his chin, “I suppose you learn something new every day.”

“You made me do that knowing—” Naruto coughed, more and more uneasy with each passing second. “Knowing he’d die?” His face paled even further and his hand leaned back to grasp something— anything —to help keep him steady.

“Come now Namikaze, don’t be like that,” the Master playfully chided. “You’re a kid, aren’t you? Don’t you ever break your toys open to see how they work?”

* * *

_This is bad._

For as long as she remembered, she was nigh undefeatable.

Apart from Lord Orochimaru himself, there was no one— _no one_ —that stood a chance against the diverse and terrifying effects of her Crystal Release. After all, no matter how strong or agile a shinobi might be, no matter how many jutsu one boasted in their arsenal, there was very little they could do against someone that turned Nature itself into crystal. Air, Earth, life, non-life, organic or inorganic— anything and everything could be converted into jade with nary a thought.

There was a reason, after all, why someone like Lord Orochimaru had made a fourteen-year-old Guren the warden of an underground fortress— one that imprisoned powerful and rare shinobi from throughout the Elemental Nations.

But now, for the first time in her life, Guren felt a strange emotion.

Fear.

Not for her life, for there could be no great honor than to die as a tribute or sacrifice in the service of her Lord. No, it was the fear of failure. She _never_ failed.

Not when she had been asked to kill the very person that had saved her life.

Not during any of the several rebellions among the prisoners.

For more than ten years, she had resolutely held her post. Not once in that entire duration was there any sort of incident.

And now, in front of this _girl_ that was her junior in every respect, in front of this monster that the _girl_ had summoned to fight for her, Guren felt the long-forgotten primal instinct of fear rise up within her.

It was... wrong _._ Shameful, for someone in her position, to think of anything other than victory and fulfilling Lord Orochimaru’s orders. As her fight grew increasingly desperate, the lingering thought in her mind continued to grow stronger.

_In all my years of serving Lord Orochimaru, I have never failed him. I will not do so now._

But this monster in front of her, this unstoppable juggernaut, was some kind of freak of nature— immune to her Crystal Release. Spears, kunai, knives. No matter how many times she tried, it always ended the same way. And after throwing around her chakra from every angle without pause, she was now close to exhaustion.

Her infallible image was on the verge of cracking. And if that happened, she’d lose everything.

How could this have happened?

She had single-handedly fought the entire horde of prisoners in this dungeon and took down every single one of them. None of the prisoners could be accused of being _average_ ,yet she stood head and shoulders above them. But after all these years, she was inches away from losing her life at the hands of someone that didn’t even care about all that?

 _Peace has made you weak,_ Guren told herself. _Victory has defeated you._

No more.

This monster needed to be taken out, and fast. She would not let Lord Orochimaru’s experiment be interrupted because some uppity little girl decided to betray their leader. Not on her watch.

She placed her palms down upon the ground, calling upon the layers of crystal she had slowly grown into the very foundations of the castle itself over the years. It saddened her to use her greatest technique like this, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

There were no superfluous hand movements. The crystals would always answer to her.

_‘The God’s Crossing.’_

And the ground erupted.

Like tombstones atop a graveyard, large crystalline formations erupted out of the floor, rushing ahead to impale the juggernaut above them with extreme prejudice. And yet, the monstrosity kept swinging its massive ax, tearing the crystals apart before they could come remotely close to his crimson skin. One moment, it was airborne— the next moment, its ax swinging downwards, clearing entire layers of crystals and making them explode in all directions.

“Guess you really can’t teach an old bitch new tricks,” the impudent girl sneered at her.

Guren gnashed her teeth, preparing for a last-ditch attempt at an omnidirectional strike. Surely the monster wouldn’t be able to mount a defense in every angle at once, could he? The only way to escape something like that was a spherical force, like the Hyuga’s Revolving Heaven technique, and this monstrosity— whatever it was —was no shinobi. It couldn’t use jutsu.

It was a savage, something armed with pure physical strength and agility and nothing else.

No technique or finesse.

_Yes, that will do._

She spread her hands in opposite directions into a Boar seal, gathering the last dredges of her chakra to power her most powerful technique.

Her infamous Falling Dragon.

“Give up,” Tayuya was speaking, “Give up or GAA—AAKK!”

The average shinobi would probably pause, cautiously looking around for the source of whatever had injured their opponent, before making a move. Guren called these people _amateurs_.

She finished gathering her chakra and shoved her palms ahead, directing the full power of the attack to converge upon her enemy.

The ground shook.

A crystalline dragon emerged.

And its nine heads arose from nine directions, their wings and claws spread across the floor as it charged at the enemy. Not a single angle was left unaccounted for, as crystal converged upon her enemy and covered it with no route of escape.

Guren held her breath.

The juggernaut rushed in, throwing its ax in a cyclic orbit, tearing through the masses of crystal like they were paper, and smashing it into the ground, creating a massive shockwave that shouldn’t have been possible at all. Just like before. The crystals were still no match for it.

But that wasn’t her sole aim.

From the corner of her left eye, she spotted Kidomaru leaping down from one of the pillars to stand beside her, his yew bow taut and laden with arrows. The six-handed shinobi pulled the string a second time and launched a volley of arrows at Tayuya, who had fallen unconscious.

The behemoth immediately jumped back and blocked the arrows.

Gurren smiled.

That right there was her opportunity.

As the Oni protected its summoner from the arrows, it left itself wide open. In a split second, the crystalline dragon reformed out of the ground and impaled the creature. Guren could only watch with surreal fascination as the Oni, despite the crystal dragons impaling into his skin and tearing through its tendons and muscles, kept breaking through them as it swung its ax.

She smirked coldly. It was too late.

**SPLAT!**

A tenth dragon, one that had come down from the ceiling, had pierced through the juggernaut’s brain, splattering its contents all over the floor.

All over Tayuya.

Guren smiled.

Victory was hers.

* * *

The boy was shaking.

 _How annoying,_ Orochimaru thought wryly, as he watched the fourteen-year-old instinctively shrink back into the leather-bound contraption. Somehow, seeing Minato Namikaze’s son behave like an innocent civilian made him want to throw up.

_You were a natural born-killer who decimated an entire legion of shinobi with nothing but a pair of kunai, but your offspring flinches at the sight of death. Seriously, Namikaze, your son is a disappointment. You should thank me for my magnanimity._

Strangely enough, the brat reminded him of Sarutobi Hiruzen, as uncomfortable as the thought was. Even now, the old man’s words about love, friendship and ideals of the shinobi world came to mind.

 _Useless drivel,_ Orochimaru scowled.

The shinobi world wasn’t about love or friendship or anything so ludicrous, and peace was a fool’s errand. It was about blades of cold iron cutting through soft flesh. Lofty ideals were all well and good so long as you had a stick big enough to enforce them. The old professor had never understood that principle, unlike his successor, who had single-handedly turned Konoha into the most feared hidden village in an instant.

Orochimaru felt the slightest tinge of jealousy when he thought of him. Even fourteen years after his death.

 _Enough dillydallying._ He looked at the boy, before glancing at the remaining person kneeling on the floor. After the initial attempt with the Iwa shinobi, he had repeated the experiment with the two Kumo brothers as well, both of whom were significantly skilled with the Lightning Release. Lightning was the second rarest element in the Elemental Nations, after Wind.

Naturally, Orochimaru wanted it before anything else, especially considering his pet jinchuuriki had a Wind affinity by birth.

Named after the primeval dragon god of the oceans, his seal— the Ryujin —was a man-made marvel. Upon activation and initializing contact with the victim, the seal would act like one of his Cursed Seals of Heaven and spread itself into the victim’s body, before dragging their chakra nature out and assimilating it into the host’s body.

The removal of the chakra nature often had an aggressive reaction in the victim’s body, with a drawn-out and painful death being the most common outcome. Some, like the Iwa shinobi, managed to survive, though there wasn’t much difference, not really— spending the rest of one’s natural life in a vegetative state wasn’t far off from death in his opinion.

Still, it wasn’t his problem. As the warden, it was one of Guren’s duties to take out the trash on a regular basis. She was good at taking care of annoying tasks like that.

But despite the annoying deaths, one thing was quickly made clear. Because the seal had a direct connection with the host’s chakra pathways, a complete quantification of all variables was possible. The individual amounts of chakra natures, their ratios to other complementary and contradictory natures, the amount of chakra production, and its efficiency— _everything_ was quantifiable.

And it was absolutely glorious.

There was only one tiny little problem. Alteration in the host’s chakra pathways by insertion of new natures caused them to fracture, leading to a horrible death that no amount of healing could negate. His best-case test subject had the host surviving for forty-two hours of increasing agony and insanity before succumbing to a cruel death.

But not Naruto.

As he predicted, the Nine-tailed beast’s chakra— infamous for its unparalleled regenerative powers— had been able to instantly reverse any and all forms of damage to the boy’s chakra pathways, while the seal ensured that the new natures were added in.

In other words, the seal represented endless growth.

As for the bit of pain, it wasn’t a big deal. After all, great pains had to be undertaken in the name of research.

The only problem now was that the interface designed to quantify the host body and its chakra affinities had failed. This was primarily due to the boy’s Eight-Trigrams seal. It acted as a middleman between the chakra pathways and the Ryujin seal, and as such, left the inbuilt quantification seals inactive.

_Oh well. You win some, you lose some._

Besides, he had all the time in the world. He’d correct this minor inconvenience later on.

For now, he had to complete the final stage of his experiment _._

Pakura.

The _hero_ of Sunagakure. The wielder of the infamous Scorch Release. The one betrayed by her own village because their elders valued paltry politics over a shinobi’s loyalty.

Kneeling before him was an S-rank kunoichi who was, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world. An extremely precious piece of _research material_ that Orochimaru had managed to save from a gruesome death in the misty wastelands of Kiri, before promptly imprisoning her in the dungeons.

And now, her time had come.

The final test.

He had never used Pakura to test his seal before. After all, if she died, he’d lose the infamous Scorch Release and have nothing to show for it. But now, he was ready. Her borrowed time had finally come to an end.

“Will you—” the woman murmured in an ethereal, slightly drowsy tone—a product of being dosed with a mix of several chemicals that kept her in a trance-like state. She was too dangerous to remain lucid.

“Are you going to kill me, Orochi— Orochimaru?”

“Why of course I’m going to kill you, my dear,” he drawled, all the while carefully observing Naruto’s expressions. The boy had been pushed beyond his limits today. Would he do something unconventional? Perhaps even try to attack him? It wouldn’t really mean anything, but it’d make things a little less boring.

“What— what have I ever done to you?”

Orochimaru shook his head. “Why does death always come as such a shock to shinobi? Kill or be killed, isn’t that our daily bread and butter?”

“But… why?”

“Because you have a unique bloodline, of course. One of the more precious ones. There are just too many applications of being able to create desiccators out of thin air. Why, I’m almost… giddy at the thought of having it assimilated into my seal.”

“Please….” It wasn’t clear if the woman was laughing or weeping. Her movements were bordering on extreme catatonia, while her trance-like facial expression gave the impression that she was only half-aware of what was actually happening to her.

Meanwhile, the boy was curled up into himself, shaking madly as he watched Orochimaru casually converse with her.

Orochimaru smiled. That was okay. There was no need to burden the boy with any future expectations.

“Please…” Pakura repeated. “Do not— do— do not— do— kill. Don’t— me.”

Orochimaru cocked his head, a quizzical expression on his face. “I thought you’d be more grateful. Do you know how many of my prisoners want to die and never receive the opportunity? You’ve spent so long in that dark and dingy prison— don’t tell me you’ve grown fond of it.”

“Spare— me— spare— ”

“Don’t worry,” Orochimaru leaned forward, a kind smile on his face. “Think of this as an opportunity. If you survive, I’ll let you go! And if not… well, at least you won't spend the rest of your life in the cell. You can’t lose, really.”

He grabbed Naruto’s trembling hands and forced them onto her breasts, activating the seal a third time.

Pakura screamed and screamed and _screamed_ , her entire form convulsing and twisting and turning as her mind frayed from the extreme pain that coursed through her body.

And just like that, she keeled over. Dead.

“Well…” Orochimaru frowned. “Unfortunately, Scorch Release won’t show on the standard chakra paper, so I just have to accept in good faith that it worked, otherwise it’d be such a waste. Don’t you agree, Namikaze?”

He turned his gaze to the boy.

_Goodness. He looks like he’s about to throw up. Better maintain a distance._

“You— she— why did—” the boy struggled to form the words. His face was ashen, his blue eyes covered in a glossy sheen while tears trailed nonstop down his cheeks. The boy looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Why did—” the boy tried again.

Orochimaru sighed. “Why did I _what_ , Namikaze?”

“Why did— why did you— kill her?” the boy stammered. “She did nothing to you— she just— she just wanted to— to live.”

“She did,” Orochimaru smiled warmly. “And that's absolutely fair. But you see Namikaze, sometimes an end can be a blessing. The world is a cold and cruel place. People kill each other every day for the most inane of reasons. Brother against brother, student against teacher… parent against child. Death, on the other hand, is a path to peace. It’s the mountain top from which your whole life is visible. For instance, look at yourself. You want to spend the rest of your life here with Tayuya, who, by the way, is probably having her grave dug by Guren by now.”

He paused for a moment, taking in the horror growing on the boy’s face.

“And before you accuse me of being a liar, I _did_ keep my promise. You’ll never see me again after tonight, and you and your sweetheart can stay in this castle together… forever.”

Orochimaru gripped the boy’s arms with inhuman strength and dragged him closer, their noses nearly touching.

“So welcome, as I like to say,” he hissed, his serpentine fangs extending past his lips, “to the mountain top.”

And then he buried his teeth into the boy’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> ~The BlackStaff and NightMarE~


	5. ACT 1 - Beyond the Horizon | Chapter 4 - The Best Laid Plans

It was a giant tunnel.

Winding around like some massive serpent, the tunnel kept twisting and turning in random directions, branching away over and over, only to reforge into large trunks that seemed to go nowhere. The floor was inundated with a sinister green water that reeked of death, smoke and decay. An eerie luminescence kept the path aglow, a strange corrosive haze permeating the entire arena that burned through skin and bone.

Orochimaru exhaled.

“The mighty Eight-Trigrams seal, empowered by the Shiki Fujin.” He scrunched his nose. “I would’ve imagined it to be a little cleaner. Sanitation clearly isn’t the Shinigami’s forte.”

But this place seemed to do its job well despite its shortcomings. Too well, in fact.

This vast maze of tunnels was a manifestation of the seal itself, imprisoning the tailed beast within while also warding away any external influences that tried to break in.

Influences like himself.

But that didn’t stop him. He had finally managed to get around it.

The bite on the boy’s neck was a transfer of bodily fluids into him— more specifically, he put his own blood into the boy. The transfusion acted as a binding agent for his Living Corpse Reincarnation technique, which would allow him to consume the boy’s consciousness and take over his body.

And most importantly, it would allow him to do so in a way that fooled the seal into believing him to be the real Naruto Namikaze.

Orochimaru smiled. It was not everyday that you outwitted a _god_.

It had been difficult, but completely worth it.

Between his horde of knowledge, the Kyuubi’s unending reserves, and the Ryujin adding chakra natures to the body, Orochimaru would be able to transcend.

He would become God.

And that was just the beginning.

Unfortunately, instead of entering the kid’s psyche directly, he had been drawn here, into the Eight-Trigrams seal— the domain of the Kyuubi-no-kitsune. He didn’t expect to end up in here so early, before he was in a position to readily assimilate it.

Orochimaru’s lips thinned.

Even time felt strange in the seal. There were moments when the water felt as hard as solid rock— unmoving, uncaring, static. Other times, it would gush around with the sort of turbulence that could even make a Kiri shinobi gulp in fear.

It was unnerving.

And yet, the scientist in Orochimaru couldn’t help but linger. He stood there, undecided on what course of action to take.

Finally, he sighed.

“When life throws lemons at you…” he muttered, wading his way even deeper through the stinking waters despite all of his instincts screaming at him that it was a terrible idea. Slowly, the layer of chakra he shielded his body with was eroded by the corrosive haze. He needed to get out of there before he ran out of chakra entirely.

And yet, no matter how much distance he covered, the tunnel seemed to go on for just a bit longer. It was almost like—

Orochimaru face-palmed.

“I’m such a fool.”

He had assumed the Eight-Trigrams seal was a wall. Walls kept intruders out, so it was just a matter of finding a way in.

He was wrong.

“This isn’t meant to keep people out,” he realized with a frown. “It’s supposed to keep them in.”

“Impressive. You figured that out rather quickly, Orochimaru.”

The snake-summoner spun around at the strangely familiar voice. Bright yellow hair underneath the straps of a Konoha headband, a dazzling white, short-sleeved haori adorned with orange flames, a practiced smile resting on an angular face. Orochimaru’s slit-like pupils dilated at the familiar sight, his gaze squarely matched by calm, electric-blue eyes.

“....Minato?”

* * *

**_“Naruto…”_ **

The word pierced through the haze of pain clouding Tayuya’s mind, bringing her back to the land of the living. Opening her eyes, she found herself suspended in mid-air like a prisoner, her hands and feet tightly wound by manacles connected to crystalline chains jutting out from the ground and ceiling. Her flute was missing from her person and, judging by the state of her undress, someone had taken all of her other weapons too.

At least, that better have been the reason. Otherwise, she was going to cut a bitch.

Tayuya wrinkled her nose at the nauseating stench of blood. She looked around at the large, stony walls enclosing a circular room with a bowl-like floor structure. Sevel tall podiums jutted out from the walls while the rocky floor was littered with pits and broken fragments of rock and amputated body parts.

Anyone with two brain cells could tell where she was. The dungeon.

_The irony is killing me more than this goddamn headache._

And above her, on top of the tallest podium, stood Guren.

With Kidomaru and Jirobo slightly behind her.

Meanwhile, she was dangling a dozen feet above the center of the large arena, with hundreds of Orochimaru’s prisoners surrounding her in all directions— their arms and neck shackled, grunting and hawing like the dogs they were.

“Welcome back,” she heard Guren’s nasty voice drawl. “Some time ago, you foolishly challenged me, the warden of this prison to a fight. So drunk off of faith in that degenerate summon of yours, that you dared think yourself my better.”

She smirked.

“And now look at you. A fettered, beaten _cur_ ready to face your punishment.”

Tayuya struggled in place, pulling at the chains. They rattled, but not a single link managed to budge. Incapacitated, she looked up at Guren, a sneer on her face.

“You’re experienced for a bitch,” she growled, glaring at the warden who crossed her arms. “Even more than me.”

“ _Tayuya_ praising someone?” Jirobo chortled, slapping his rotund belly. “You ever remember her doing that before, Kidomaru?”

The spider-freak shook his head. “She knows when she’s beaten.”

Guren, though, had an inscrutable look on her face.

“But,” Tayuya continued, ignoring their ramblings, “even though you’re such a blowhard, you’re still just a one-trick pony.”

Seeing the smirk vanish off of Guren’s face was a sweet reward in and of itself.

“Is that so?” the crystal-release user coldly retorted, uncrossing her arms and reaching into her pouch. “A _one-trick pony_ , am I? What about you then? What are you without… this?”

She held up a long, lilac flute.

 _Her_ flute.

And then she snapped it in two. And again. And again.

Tayuya stared at her stonily, suppressing the urge to snort. It wasn’t like that flute was particularly special or anything. She’d just reform it again.

“What?” the warden yelled. “Nothing to say? What can you do now that your flute is gone?

“Why don’t you free me and find out for yourself.” Tayuya’s lips twisted into a dark smile. “Bitch.”

“Scum like you need to be tau—” Kidomaru interrupted Guren’s words, gripping her shoulder with his hand. “Don’t. She's trying to trick you.”

“She has nothing on her, Kidomaru,” Jirobo muttered in his loud, baritone voice.

“Are you crazy? That’s Tayuya you dimwit—”

Tayuya chuckled at their antics, a proud smirk on her face. “Look at you morons. I’m all tied up, injured, unarmed, and surrounded by your army of wankers. And even now, you cunts fear me.”

Another chuckle.

“I like that.” Tayuya licked her lips. “Fear is good. It tells me you’re weak. Pussies.”

Her skin’s hue slowly began to darken and sounds of bells began ringing in her ears once more.

“A little rest has made you cocky,” Kidomaru replied, his arms on his waist. “I liked you better when you were down on the ground, groaning in pain.”

“Free me and find out,” Tayuya repeated, tossing a glance at the broken shards of her flute cluttering the floor.

The tolling sounds increased in intensity.

“Fine!” Guren hissed. She gestured towards the army of prisoners around them. “If you really want to die that badly, fight through this herd, and I’ll let you see what this _one-trick pony_ can do again.”

Her lips thinned. “I’ll drag you by your hair, kicking and screaming all the way to the top floor, and bathe you in your precious beloved’s blood. Then, and _only_ then, do you have my permission to die.”

Tayuya grit her teeth. “Naruto is not dead.”

“She still believes that?” Jirobo snorted.

“Let her,” Guren drawled. “It will only be that much more satisfying to see her break.”

“I won’t break,” Tayuya promised, rattling the chains once more. “I’ll never give up.” She kicked her legs out again, and surprisingly enough, the shackles binding her arms and legs turned to dust, dropping her unceremoniously onto the ground. She was aching, tired, and covered in blood— her palm oozing blood from being shot with an arrow earlier as well as Zaraba’s grey matter coating her from head to toe.

But she wasn’t worried— she knew he’d come back to life eventually. Resurrection of cursed spirits was the Demon’s forte.

It was only a matter of time.

She walked up to the broken pieces of her flute on the ground.

“For all your skill and power, you just don’t understand, do you bitch?” she snarled. “What I have isn’t some two-bit ninjutsu, genjutsu, or taijutsu. This is the providence of a _god_.”

The little shards shot into the air, melding together to form larger and larger pieces until it was all one whole object, identical to the flute before it was shattered. Tayuya caught it deftly in her hands and brought it to her lips.

A strange calmness exuded her with the familiar object in her possession once more. “There’s no question what’s about to happen. We will fight, and you will die. So come.”

The prisoners attacked all at once.

Tayuya didn’t care. She had the flute to her lips and a melody ready in her mind.

One that would bring forth the dance of death.

Zaraba was an unstoppable juggernaut in a straight fight. A samurai of old, unparalleled in the art of the sword and cursed to become one of the Demon’s Oni. But to face the army around her, Tayuya needed someone else.

Someone skilled in fighting multiple opponents.

The pillager.

The barbarian.

Her lips moved all on their own, uttering a strange set of monosyllabic sounds that culminated into a single name.

“Ninabi.”

The melody ebbed into the air as the very atmosphere around her churned, forming an ethereal shape.

And there he was.

Clad in a dark red loincloth that barely covered his thighs, the emaciated blue figure had dirty-brown hair tied in a knot above his head, his ponytail reaching all the way below his waist. In each hand rested a long nodachi with strange symbols carved into them, shining malevolently in the dim light of the dungeon.

Ninabi let out a battle cry, raising both swords into the air as he vanished with a loud _crack_.

And all around her, the army began to die.

* * *

Orochimaru couldn’t believe his eyes. This was… he was…

“...Minato Namikaze.”

“This is a little embarrassing, Orochimaru,” Minato chuckled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I certainly didn’t think I’d find you of all people trying to break _into_ the seal.”

Orochimaru scowled. What did he think he was? An idiot? “Give me some credit, Namikaze. I know better than to hammer my way through the handiwork of a divine entity. I was trying to enter into his psyche, though in hindsight, it makes sense why my efforts brought me here instead.”

Minato grinned. “There’s no point in creating an impenetrable defense around the Kyuubi’s seal if it leaves my son open to an attack.”

“You didn’t apply the Shiki Fujin on the seal. You placed it on the boy himself. Nothing gets in, or out.”

Minato’s eyes glinted.

“It seems like I underestimated you, Namikaze,” Orochimaru professed, keenly aware that a direct confrontation with the man was imminent. All that remained to be seen was when, and in what setting. “That said, seeing you here is a tad surprising.”

“When I sealed the Kyuubi into my child, I used your Soul Transference technique to place a portion of my own soul into the seal, before the rest of me was taken by the Shinigami. The tailed beast’s passive chakra is enough for me to keep surviving until I’m needed.”

“In other words, you _stole_ mytechnique,” Orochimaru all but snarled.

“Correction, I _used_ your idea.” Minato’s words and tone were surprisingly genuine. “Your work on impure reincarnation techniques did not go unseen or unacknowledged, Orochimaru of the Sannin.”

The snake-summoner faltered at that. He and Namikaze had a long history of arguing over the ethics of his research, with the other man halting most of his funds claiming it was too dangerous to society. To see the hypocritical bastard using _his_ technique to survive…

He really hated this man.

“You double-faced hypocritical swine….” Orochimaru hissed.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Minato mocked, “after spending years harvesting Hashirama Senju’s cells to extend your own lifespan.”

“You don’t get to say that to me, Namikaze!” He was practically frothing at the mouth now, his ever-calm and composed demeanor crumbling to dust. All he could feel was a mad haze of anger and hatred and—

Wait.

_Why am I getting so angry? After I stole his child and—_

Orochimaru faltered, and the sudden burst of fear and anger vanished instantly.

“...What the hell was that?”

Minato grinned. “Passive effect of the Kyuubi’s chakra.”

Orochimaru blinked.

Then blinked again.

“Tailed beast chakra is corrosive,” Minato clarified, as if the two shinobi weren’t at each other's throats a mere moment ago. “While you’re in here, it will have an effect on your emotions, amplifying negative thoughts like rage and bloodlust.”

 _That,_ Orochimaru admitted to himself, _made a lot of sense._

He looked down at the water flowing around him.

_Is this sewage water the unfiltered Kyuubi chakra then?_

He looked back at Minato as he re-evaluated his situation. It was a no-brainer that Namikaze would resist his efforts to consume the boy’s spiritual essence. And as much as it pained him to admit it, the Fourth Hokage was the deadlier shinobi between the two of them. But armed with his regeneration technique and the Kyuubi’s endless power flowing through this labyrinth, he could call upon his arsenal of jutsu to match Namikaze and his infamous Hiraishin.

In the real world, things would have been very different. But here, they were evenly matched.

Confrontation was unavoidable. But personally, he’d rather have a civilized conversation and squeeze some information out of him instead. One mustn't miss an opportunity, after all, especially when it walked into one’s path.

“If you knew what my research was capable of, why did you stop my funding?”

“I had issues with your methods, not the goal.”

“The ends justify the means,” the snake-summoner retorted, crossing his arms as he leaned against the tunnel wall. For a moment, it was almost like he was back in the Hokage’s office, trading arguments and thinly veiled barbs with the other man.

“Like you did with my child? Stealing his childhood from him, and now his body, justifies your purpose?”

“Your _child_ was a dead man walking the moment you made him a jinchuuriki, Namikaze,” Orochimaru whispered, his voice cold and sharp, like a barbed knife. “Hiruzen would have coddled him to the point of incompetence while Danzo ensured he’d be hated in hopes of creating a mindless acolyte.”

Orochimaru took a step forward, pointing an accusatory finger at his contemporary. “You claim I took away his childhood when in reality, I gave him thirteen years of a happy, civilian life. I gave him over a decade of normalcy in a world where he’d be used by friend and foe alike. I allowed him to live a life with no knowledge of the curse placed on him by his own _father.”_

Minato placidly watched in silence.

“I raised him. I ensured he was taught. I ensured he had friends. I ensured he had a satisfactory life for all this time. In a world where being a shinobi is synonymous to wading a life of death, I gave him thirteen years of sound sleep.”

Orochimaru wore a wry smirk. “You call it stealing his childhood, I call it _mercy!”_

“Thirteen years of normalcy to replace a life of growth and suffering,” Minato muttered. “It seems very magnanimous when you put it that way,...”

His eyes suddenly hardened.

“But what of everything else?”

Orochimaru cocked his head.

“My son’s life may not have been a bed of roses, but he’d be in Konoha. He’d have his godfather. He’d have friends, real friends. He’d grow up and go to school and live the shinobi life like his parents did.”

Minato met his gaze. “You took that away from him. You _imprisoned_ him in this isolated island, filled with broken prisoners and sycophants alike.”

Orochimaru stared at him. All these years of working in solitude over Minato’s unfinished legacy, he had often imagined a confrontation between himself and the man. To admit that he had been wrong about Minato and to start over. In fact, his other research, the mythical Edo Tensei, had been started with the aim of bringing Minato back to life.

But now? Now as he faced the fourth Hokage, all of a sudden, it all came back. The hostility that the man had for his experiments. His self-righteousness. His arrogance. His vindictiveness. His hypocrisy over painting Orochimaru as a heartless psychopathic bastard while he himself claimed the Hokage’s hat, sitting on a throne built of a thousand dead Iwa shinobi…

“—shattered my son’s innocence by making him commit murder, right before your attempted to devour his consciousness.”

The Sannin had enough. “I taught him what it meant to be a shinobi. His coming-of-age, as Hiruzen would have phrased it.”

“Oh, and I assume it has absolutely nothing to do with throwing his mind into disarray to facilitate your own entrance?”

Orochimaru chortled. “Don’t play coy with me, Namikaze. We’re shinobi. Killers. Everything we do has multiple layers of meaning. Jinchuuriki do not live long, and attempting to shape him into my own school of thought would take decades— decades that could be spent furthering other research. Instead, I took the most efficient route possible.”

“Taking over Naruto’s body,” Minato all but growled.

“No, setting him free.”

Frankly, Orochimaru was surprised that Namikaze was able to suppress his hostility thus far, especially since they were on the topic of his imprisoned and experimented son. Perhaps the man had grown accustomed to the Kyuubi’s chakra after being in here for so long?

This required further thought. But not at the moment.

“I completed your legacy, Namikaze. With the Kyuubi trapped by the power of your Shiki Fujin and my new masterpiece, this body would be worthy of a god. Think about it. With that much power in my hands, I could bring the other villages to their knees. Konoha would reign supreme.”

“And with you on top.”

Orochimaru smiled. “A throne demands a ruler.”

“At the cost of my son’s life.”

“Shinobi are sacrificed every day, and jinchuuriki even more so. You guaranteed the demise of that babe when you sealed the tailed beast within him— he’s a ticking time-bomb. On the other hand, _thousands_ of shinobi have been dying year after year because of the constant wars between the Elemental Nations.”

“You are seeing phantoms, Orochimaru,” Minato retorted sternly. “The world is peaceful.”

“It’s unbecoming of you to confuse peace with quiet,” the Sannin snarled. “Do not insult my intelligence, Namikaze. Kumo has been attempting to overthrow Konoha’s power for years now. Suna has been plotting behind our backs, sheltering terrorists and making deals with other villages. Iwa hates us on principle thanks to you. Kiri remains a bloody battleground. Where is your vaunted peace, Lord Fourth?”

Namikaze remained silent for a moment. Then, he spoke.

“But war isn’t a solution.”

“I never said it would be a war,” Orochimaru whispered. “War implies the other side has a chance of winning.”

Slowly, he raised himself to his fullest height. “The turmoil between nations can be curb-stomped by power. _Real_ power, the kind that Naruto will become with our creations combined and powered by the greatest tailed beast in the world. Thousands can be saved. No one life, innocent or not, is worth more than that.”

Minato merely smiled.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Where you’ve always been wrong. You’ve actually got it backward.”

The snake-summoner narrowed his eyes.

“No life is worth more, you say? No, Orochimaru. No life is worth _less.”_

Orochimaru let every shred of emotion drain from his expression. His body began to release tiny bits of chakra in all directions, cloaking himself into a chakra-cocoon to defend against physical attacks. He was no Namikaze, but he wasn’t exactly easy to take down.

“There is no escape,” Minato intoned, as if reading his mind. “This seal is empowered by the _Shinigami_. Once you enter his domain, there is no going back.”

He raised a kunai.

Orochimaru raised his own in response, before hissing out in response.

“May the most devious one win.”

And sparks flew as metal clashed with metal.

* * *

For ten long years, Guren committed unspeakable crimes in the name of her Lord and Master.

She had walked into unsuspecting villages solely to capture those with a modicum of talent for her Lord’s research and to unleash carnage on the rest. She had overseen the island-laboratory and ensured the prisoners never mustered the courage to stage an insurrection. She had immediately ended the lives of those that raised a voice against her Lord. And once she killed any prisoners with her bare hands, she then waded into the sea to wash off her sins.

No blood, no sin.

Faulty logic, perhaps, but it was simple. She liked simple.

And thus, she had never hated herself.

Until now.

“Why doesn’t that thing just die already?” she heard Kidomaru yell in anger. He sent a flurry of poison-tipped arrows at the attacker, but they were intercepted and cut into pieces before coming anywhere close to the Oni.

“Attack the other one first, this one’s too fast,” Jirobo yelled, stomping on the ground and raising a large mud wall. It was shattered to nothingness before it was even half-raised.

Tayuya hadn’t summoned just a single Oni this time.

She summoned _two_.

The first was the one with the pair of nodachi and lighting on his heels. The barbarian had long, iron shackles on his ankles with chains extending out of them. When he ran, lightning oozed from the chains, decapitating and dismembering whatever came into contact as the man-sized monster kicked and slashed and tore through the prisoners like a tiger in a field of sheep.

This was no war. It was slaughter.

And that was without considering the other one.

This Oni looked much more humane than the other one, both in build and movement. She had a lithe figure that reeked of femininity and flexibility, with full armor protecting her upper half and a weasel-shaped mask covering her face. Her hair was tied into a bun and held in place with a single senbon, reminding her of the kunoichi of the olden days.

She wielded a pair of elegantly curved blades, ones that fused at will to form a bow that shot thin arrows of water— whenever something entered its proximity, the creature would deconstruct the bow and decapitate it, before reforming it once more.

Guren had seen it happen six times already. That was when it hit her.

_First, it was fire. Then lightning. And now this? Does she have an Oni for every damn element?_

“All of you, deal with this bitch!” Guren snapped out. “Kidomaru and I will take care of...” she spared a glance at the lightning wielder, “that one.”

**SLASH!**

Five more heads rolled across the floor, blood trailing its path.

Guren gulped.

_Easier said than done._

She pressed her palms against the floor, seeking aid from the very walls of the castle where her crystals lay dormant, ready to grow at a moment’s notice and follow her commands.

_‘The God’s Crossing.’_

And the crystals answered, shooting out of the ground like coffins jumping out of a graveyard. Chunks of crystal, each a different shape and size— blocks, blades, boulders, daggers —emerged, jutting out in an attempt to hinder the ‘Ninabi’ creature as he rushed towards her.

Faster than her eyes could follow, one of his nodachi fell towards her neck, aiming to separate it from the rest of her body. A blade of crystal quickly intercepted the attack, only to disintegrate into dust as lightning coursed through it, fracturing its lattices.

It was an acute vulnerability in her chakra release— because of the rapid bonding between crystal molecules, lattices were almost never in perfect symmetry, with structural imperfections in several places. When inundated with lightning, these imperfections shuddered to the point of deconstruction, and the unreal momentum from the Oni’s attack only aided their destruction.

Cursing, Guren threw herself back as the nodachi tore through the space where her neck had been a mere moment ago, the tip flying so close that she could have sworn she felt a jolt of shock in her throat, jumping from the metal and into her skin. Spinning to avoid losing her footing, Guren materialized half a dozen crystal blades and sent them flying at the Nanabi’s groin.

They were blown away like petals in a storm.

Instead, she found herself hammered by a pair of steel blades as a follow-up attack. She desperately conjured more blades, but nothing seemed to deter the fury of slashing steel raining down upon her. Slowly overwhelmed, she dug her knee down into the ground, spitting blood.

The pillager swung his blade downwards in a killing blow.

And was sent flying as a truck-sized boulder smashed into him, flinging him away several feet.

“Did it work?” she heard Jirobo yell.

“Somewhat,” she coughed.

“We need to stop this one first,” the earth-style user mumbled, launching more rocks at the other Oni, who swayed, ducked and sidestepped with ease while raining showers of water-arrows at everyone.

And Tayuya?

She was nowhere to be seen.

“Damn it!” Guren cursed. “Where did she—”

The rest of her thoughts died as a pair of steel blades smashed against her. Crystals immediately encased her arms as she raised them upwards to shield herself from the oncoming blow.

But it wasn’t enough.

The nodachi slowly cut through her crystal with unreal force, pushing forward inches at a time. She kept summoning new layers of crystal to replace the old ones, but the swords didn’t let up for a second, pushing down harder and harder.

Eventually, it shattered.

Two arms fell upon the stone floor, their severed ends spurting out warm, crimson blood.

Guren screamed.

* * *

Naruto blearily opened his eyes, freezing at the unfamiliar sight.

Gone was the stone-walled mansion, the tabletop on which the Master had bound and incapacitated him. Gone were the spasming bodies of the shinobi that he was forced to kill with his own two hands. Instead, he was standing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but dark crimson as far as the eye could see.

An ocean of blood.

The liquid stuck to his naked torso, in what seemed to be a desperate attempt to stay latched on and not be driven away by the turbulent flow. There were no walls, no skies— just an alien crimson hue above his head where the ceiling should have been, and a large prison several feet ahead.

Sitting inside the prison, on a small rock bed, was a young woman with long hair as crimson as the blood he was immersed in. Her features looked deliriously soft and feminine, with bright hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and plushy lips.

He had never seen this person before. Not in the castle, not among the workers that served the Master. Not even in his wildest dreams.

And yet, she somehow felt strangely familiar.

“You’ve come at last,” she finally spoke.

“Who are you?” he ventured.

“Me? Do you really not know? This is a surprise.” Her voice was enchanting, honey to his ears. Her lips quirked up into a smile. “Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

Naruto was no shinobi, but even he knew better than to take a stranger’s word for it.

“Why are you just standing there?” The woman lifted her chin, beckoning him with a tempting finger. “Come closer.”

His feet started moving forward, but he paused immediately. “No, I won’t.”

The mysterious woman arched an eyebrow.

“If you have a prison keeping you inside this place, there has to be a reason for it. I won’t come any closer. Not until I know who you are.”

“Look at you, acting like a big bad shinobi,” the woman cooed. “It’s cute.”

“Who are you?”

The woman sighed, before tilting her head in interest. “You really don’t recognize this face, do you, boy?”

“N— no,” Naruto frowned, a strange icy fear spreading from his chest to the rest of his body. “Have we met before?”

“Give me your name, boy.”

“Naruto. Naruto Namikaze.”

That sparked a reaction. Her bright blue pupils cracked right down the middle, revealing a dark crimson slit. It made her look inhuman.

Alien.

And dangerous beyond comprehension.

Naruto was never trained as a sensor, but just his gut instinct was enough to tell him he stood in front of a being that could tear him to pieces with nary a thought. And yet, she didn’t. Whatever the prison was, it somehow kept her from getting close to him.

“ _Namikaze_. You are of his blood, then.” She sniffed, like a predator taking note of its prey. “Ah, yes. You have the same scent as that treacherous, backstabbing Uzumaki and _that_ man. You even look a lot like him. You’re their son, aren’t you?”

“I— I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Naruto half-stated, half-asked. It was clear this being somehow knew both of his parents, and as curious as he was to ask more, he had a strange inkling that this woman didn’t exactly get along with them.

The strange woman stared at him in confusion. Then, she began to smile as her eyes widened, a certain light spreading across her slitted pupils.

“Tell me boy, does the term _jinchuuriki_ mean anything to you?”

He shook his head. “Should it?”

And then she laughed.

Laughed and laughed and laughed. It was the laugh of a person who had finally gotten a joke after hearing it for an eternity. Of someone who suddenly gained a gift she didn’t know she wanted but was all the gladder for it.

“Why are you laughing?” Naruto asked, a growing pit of uneasiness in his stomach at her unrestrained laughter.

It only made her laugh harder.

“Stop laughing at me!” he finally yelled.

That seemed to get her attention. An amused smirk adorning her graceful features, the woman regarded him once more in earnest.

“Why were you laughing at me?”

“That’s… something to be discussed on a later date. For now, come closer.”

Naruto stood still, arms crossed over his chest. “We’ve been over this already. Why should I?”

“Because if you don’t,” she spoke, cruelty dripping from every word as thin fangs poked out from the edges of her lips, “you are going to die.”


	6. ACT 1 - Beyond the Horizon | Chapter 5 - Kaleidoscope

Uzumaki.

The name roughly translated to 'maelstrom', an all-powerful whirlpool that tore down and swallowed everything that came within its reach. The shinobi of antiquity believed maelstroms to herald the rise of the great dragon god of the seas— Ryujin —from the depths of the ocean. Old legends spoke of how the dragon god would rise from the ocean floors and one day consume the world.

It was almost poetic how the Uzumaki clan accomplished something very similar to that effect after the Warring States Era came to a close.

Naruto knew that much from a worn-out textbook in Mr. Yakushi's library.

The book had mentioned rumors about how the Uzumaki were sealmasters, creating fuinjutsu able to mimic unique abilities and then absorbing them into their blood. It had also talked about the existence of giant beasts whose very existences altered reality as one knew it— creatures that held enough power to destroy the Elemental Nations on a whim, yet were somehow trapped by clansmen of the Uzumaki.

How the process was achieved was unknown, and the majority of what was mentioned was hearsay and hypotheses. For young Naruto, whose belief in rationality and hard facts overshadowed all else, the book might as well have been one of Anko's gossip sessions.

But now, in hindsight, the decision to stop reading had been a grave mistake.

"You're telling me that my mother was an Uzumaki." A nod. "And that you—" Naruto pointed a finger at the redhead with strange, gleaming eyes, "—are a monstrous fox? That's just so—"

"Overwhelming?" the woman offered. "Staggering? As if your whole world view is shattered?"

"—Lame," Naruto finished. "I may be a kid, but I'm not an idiot that you can sway with such a ridiculous tale to free you from that prison."

The self-proclaimed monstrous fox— who very much still looked like a pretty redheaded woman —twitched.

"Plus, I don't really buy into the whole 'come forward or you die' thing you have going on. I'm me," he gestured to himself, "and I'm standing here. You, on the other hand, are sitting behind all those bars. It just seems like a cheap trick to get me to open that gate for you."

Assuming he even could, of course.

Not that he could blame her for trying. Whatever this place was, it had imprisoned her and she wanted out. Naruto could sympathize— he knew what prisons were like, though his was a lot less… red. It was only natural she'd try every trick in the book to escape.

_When all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail._

Mr. Yakushi once taught him that analogy.

"I'm not _a_ monstrous fox, brat _,"_ the woman retorted in bemusement. "I'm the Kyuubi-no-kitsune, the fabled nine-tailed fox."

"But you sure don't look like it," Naruto wisely pointed out. "So why should I believe you?"

"Ah, seeing is believing then, is it?" She arched an eyebrow. "Would you prefer it if I looked like this instead?"

Suddenly, she snapped her fingers.

And the vast ocean of blood around Naruto detonated.

Naruto covered his head with his arms, but such a meager protection was useless. What had once been a sedentary pool of blood was now transformed into an absolute nightmare— a true maelstrom, swirling and churning with giant tornadoes rising out of it, merging into each other only to violently explode and reform. The ceiling above turned cloudy, with forks of lightning raining down upon the ocean that kept rising up, as if trying to reach the heavens. Liquid fire burst out of the terrain underneath his feet, expanding and twisting and turning, paving the way to something even more cataclysmic.

It was then that he saw it.

Jaws.

Humongous, vicious things taller than the pillars in the castle. Teeth almost twice the size of his entire body came into view as a maddening voice erupted like a volcano, tearing through his eardrums.

" **I BEAR THE VAST JAWS THAT WILL DEVOUR THIS WORLD."**

The tails came next. Nine flaming appendages slashed through sky and ocean alike, the sheer power behind their swing shaking the very floor itself. Paralyzed with fear, Naruto gaped as a most terrible and monstrous face took form in front of him, with dark crimson slits for pupils.

" **THE HARBINGER AND HOPESLAYER. THE GREAT BEAST OF CALAMITY WHOSE ROAR SHATTERS THE VERY FABRIC OF REALITY."**

No matter what Naruto did, his body would just _not_ _move_. His wrists and ankles acted like they were solidified, like Guren's crystals. His throat was constricted to the point that even a single whimper could not escape, leaving his fear to be shown solely by a pair of dilated eyes, silently screaming in mind-numbing horror.

" **LOATHE ME. FEAR ME. LET ME DEVOUR YOU AND I WILL MAKE YOUR DREAMS REAL!"**

It was becoming impossible to breathe, as if there was a sudden dearth of oxygen that forced him to claw and gasp for air. He'd thought he'd seen darkness and death back at Orochimaru's castle. He'd thought he'd felt shock and distress at the hands of his master when the man had forcibly made him murder the woman and all those other shinobi. And yet, it was all insubstantial— irrelevant, in the face of this ever-consuming maelstrom of _bloodpaindeathbloodfleshbloodpaindeath—_

_**SNAP!** _

And just like that, he was back to standing in front of the cage, with the red-haired amiable woman standing in front of him, an amused smirk floating on her lips.

"So..." the _MONSTER_ pretending to be a beautiful woman asked, a single hand on her hips. "Which of my forms do you prefer?"

Naruto couldn't help it. He doubled over and emptied his stomach outright, morbidly watching as his vomit mixed in with the river of blood and flowed away, much to the woman's consternation.

"This," he croaked, surprised at the sound of his own voice. "This form suits you _much_ better. Less fiery that way."

Fire was Anko's thing, not his. That and snakes. If she'd been here instead of him, chances were she'd have cooed at the fiery monster, calling it 'cute' or something equally horrifying.

Then again, had Anko been here, she probably would've gone for the woman's throat, kunai in hand.

With everything he'd seen, Naruto doubted it would have ended favorably.

"Do you believe my words now?" the woman asked again.

"I— I'm not so sure anymore," Naruto mumbled, taking another step back. Fear and awe were mere inches away from overwhelming his mind, but Mr. Yakushi had taught him to always choose fact and experimentation over everything else. Rationally, much to the man's consternation, was an underestimated and underutilized resource in the shinobi world.

"You aren't?" This time, the woman looked genuinely surprised. "Truly?"

Seeing as he hadn't been turned to paste quite yet, Naruto mustered up whatever courage he could and pushed on. "I mean, if you're that powerful, you shouldn't need my help, right?" he began. "The Kyuubi-no-kitsune could destroy entire nations on a whim, and you're… No offense, but you're locked in by a couple of iron bars. It doesn't exactly paint the right picture."

He desperately hoped the murderous glint in the woman's eyes was a trick of the light.

"Besides," Naruto went on, feeling a little more courageous now, "I wasn't burned or scarred by your flames, so that means they weren't real. Ergo, an illusion!" He enthusiastically met her eyes. "It was genjutsu, right?"

Tayuya had once explained the concept of illusions— or _genjutsu_ , as everyone called it —to him. He hadn't really understood it all that much, but it involved creating hallucinations so life-like that it felt real to the victim.

The mental tangent reminded him about the Master's last words— about how he'd be dead and so would Tayuya. But after dying meant… Well, he had no idea what happened to someone after they died. None of the books he'd read wrote anything about it.

He'd simply assumed it was like falling asleep, only for a long, long time.

It seemed like the most simple explanation. He liked simple.

 _Unless…_ he mused to himself, _the entire experiment scenario with the Master was a genjutsu in and of itself? Why else am I in this strange place talking to some strange, delusional woman?_

"Tell me, boy." The woman in question seemed to have trouble keeping her emotions in check. "Why do you think I want you to come closer?"

"To open this case for you, of course. Nobody likes to be in prison," Naruto answered, his tone losing its enthusiasm near the end. "Trust me, I'd know."

"Not everything is about you," the woman snorted, standing up in place. The distorted energies emanating around her had stopped, and now her form regained its earlier solidity, except for the farthest edges. "I know for a fact that you _cannot_ open these cages," she gestured to the iron bars around her, "not unless you happen to have the key?"

"Sorry," Naruto apologized. He might not have been able to trust her, but that was no reason to be impolite. "No key."

"I presumed as much," she forlornly sighed.

"And by the way, your information isn't exactly authentic."

The woman blinked.

"You told me earlier that my mother is an Uzumaki. That's wrong."

"And why do you say that?"

"I have _yellow_ hair."

"From your father. You even look like that yellow-haired son of a bitch."

"For someone who claims to be a fox, you have a strong human vocabulary."

"For a kid that knows big words, you are quite dumb," the woman saccharinely smiled. "Understand this, _boy_. Time flows differently within the confines of this seal, so you may still have some time left before that man consumes your consciousness and kills you." It was unnerving to see her speak of his death so conversationally. "But make no mistake. It _will_ happen, and you _will_ die, and the new seal _will_ take over. Unless, of course, you listen to my instructions."

"And how do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"You won't come forward because you don't trust me, and I can't make you believe anything I say because, again, you don't trust me," the woman retorted evenly. "And so, you're going to die. You won't act on the information that I'll provide to save your life because, and this is getting repetitive, _you don't trust me_."

"Trust takes time to build," Naruto replied sagely. "Mr. Yakushi told me that."

"...I ought to eat you."

"You saying things like that doesn't exactly help with the whole trust issue, you know."

The woman's eyes twitched dangerously.

* * *

Finely honed instincts, sharpened through _decades_ of battles and bloodshed, told him that this fight was a terrible idea. A battle for a shinobi meant one of three things— victory, death, or a learning experience. This was simply a fatal error.

Fighting the Fourth Hokage— no, fighting Minato Namikaze —at close quarters was a bad deal, no matter how you sliced it.

The Eight-Trigrams Seal had him locked. There was only one way out, and that was to go forward. Minato was the first step. Breaking the seal array open with the key, without the Kyuubi killing him in an act of repressed rage, was second. Finding Naruto's consciousness and consuming it was arguably the third, and easiest, step of the lot.

But first—

_**CLANG!** _

Two pairs of kunai clashed against one other.

"How is death suiting you, Namikaze," Orochimaru hissed. "We don't have to go through with this, you know. With my Edo-Tensei technique, I can bring you back. All you have to do… is come to my side."

The Fourth Hokage's reply was two kunai shooting towards him, forcing him to leap back, narrowly avoiding a lethal strike to the face. The snake-summoner moved his hands apart, preparing to hurl a blade of wind at him when—

One of the kunai suddenly vanished, and in its place was Minato, the other kunai snugly fit into his palm as he came in for the kill and drove the weapon straight into the side of Orochimaru's head.

Orochimaru staggered in place, stepping back as blood spurted out of his temples, before his entire body turned deathly pale and then—

It transformed into a snake and fell down.

And two more snakes appeared out of nowhere, trying to bite into Minato's neck.

Two kunai met them head-on.

But the twin snakes proceeded to explode into several more copies, binding Namikaze inside a sphere before entirely bursting into flames.

A second Minato walked into the scene from the right, clapping good-naturedly.

"Twin Snakes Mutual Strike, while maintaining a double-layered genjutsu of this detail. Your reputation does you credit, Orochimaru."

The man had a cocky grin on his face. It made him want to punch it.

"The real me didn't get the chance to face you in battle," Namikaze continued wistfully. "He'd have truly enjoyed the experience."

Right, because that was really the relevant point in the entire matter. Orochimaru was having enough problems without him being forcefully reminded that he was having trouble taking on what was little more than a clone at best. A fully capable, murder-happy clone that had more power than it had any business having, but a clone nonetheless.

"Tell me Minato," Orochimaru shifted gears, "how is it that your clone is capable of performing the Shadow Clone technique of all things?"

Shinobi were a curious bunch, always on the lookout for new techniques to assimilate into their repertoire. And if that wasn't possible, they at least looked for possible holes in the technique, so they could develop a counter to use in the future. So if someone were to stop in the middle of a fight and explain their plan of action or techniques, most shinobi would, in fact, pause and listen.

Orochimaru was no different. In fact, he was even worse than others when it came to that particular trait. He distinctly remembered sparing the life of an interesting Kiri shinobi after sitting down with him to learn the secrets of the Hidden Mist technique.

"Show me yours and I'll show you mine?" Minato offered.

The snake summoner paused, before grimacing. "Never, _never_ , say that to me again."

Namikaze's expression morphed to match his own. "Agreed."

Orochimaru snorted, breaking the awkward silence that ensued. "Your wish to stall me here is obvious, Namikaze. Why not just be honest about your agenda?"

The yellow-haired man pointed at his own chest, grinning. "Shinobi."

He pursed his lips. "Point taken."

Just then, a third Namikaze smashed a glowing rasengan into him from behind, pulverizing him down to his backbone. All in all, it was too much for the snake summoner's body, and Orochimaru immediately popped into a cloud of smoke.

"And how did Orochimaru of the Sannin learn the Shadow Clone technique?" Minato yelled to the empty tunnel. "Let me guess, you stole the Scroll of Seals _while_ you were stealing my son?"

The floor cracked open as a third Orochimaru rose up, his arms crossed over his chest. "I _borrowed_ it, Namikaze. All that jutsu, sitting there and gathering dust. Besides, it's not like the old monkey would miss it."

"Borrowing implies that you'll return it to Konoha."

"I will," Orochimaru affirmed. "When I _own_ Konoha."

Minato just shook his head. "Still, I have to admit, I'm impressed. The nine-tails jinchuuriki, the Scroll of Seals, your new fuinjutsu creation." The man chuckled. "It almost makes me wish I aimed a little higher."

"You can always retry," Orochimaru offered. "With you standing by my side, we could easily bring down the other nations, even the other tailed beasts. I'd even be willing to craft a second seal for you. You remember Killer B, don't you?"

"The eight-tails jinchuuriki," Namikaze whistled. "That's a powerful bijuu. You drive a hard bargain, but I'm afraid I'll have to reject it."

Unsurprising. Much like the toads he summoned, Namikaze was rigid and unmoving in his naive ways. A particularly annoying character flaw, one that Jiraiya could never grow out of, despite Orochimaru's best efforts. He wasn't about to keep a candle lit that his pupil suddenly would.

Orochimaru shrugged. "So be it."

And the floor behind Minato's feet exploded.

* * *

Something was wrong, and Karin knew it.

She could _sense_ it.

There had been no meals in the morning, which was strange. For all the pain the white-coats put her through, they were meticulous about providing her with proper meals five times a day. And not just meals, but also health supplements of the highest caliber— fluids that would keep her healthy enough to continue being their lab rat. Even though she was never allowed outside her large chamber, she had a perfectly fine toilet for her needs and a warm bed to sleep on.

The white-coats were bastards, but they were formal bastards.

But not today.

Today was different.

None of her meals had arrived today.

The two _sessions_ she had each day with the white-coats hadn't happened either.

"Wh— why?"

The sound of her own voice felt foreign. During her time in isolation, Karin had slowly withdrawn into herself, limiting her conversations to the safe recesses of her own mind. After all, there had been no need to speak.

There had been no _one_ to speak to.

Voice was a vestigial thing, when one knew nothing but solitude.

Karin slowly withdrew into herself. Within seconds, all smells and sounds had ceased to exist. As she slowly closed her eyes, the darkness encroaching her vision began to consume her.

Silent. Colorless. Empty.

And then there was Light.

It was an ability she'd discovered during her imprisonment. The Mind's Eye.

All her life, Karin had thought of herself as a good sensor. A great one, really. The ones in Kusa were capable of sensing chakra presences within a limited range, up to several hundred feet or so. Her very first attempt let her sense things from half a mile away.

But that was then. Now?

Her mind's vision spanned miles. Plural.

And even that didn't even scratch the surface of the Eye's potential.

Karin felt her mental surroundings alter and take shape. People, animals, weapons, curses, and even wraiths became visible, all of them distinctive by their unique chakra patterns. The monochromatic mindscape was splashed with color as the Mind's Eye painted the chakra patterns into hundreds of different shades.

She could sense eight white-coats— their steel-gray chakra indicative of their apathetic nature. They cared for nothing in the world save their intellectual pursuits. That, and the dark tinge of purple she had come to associate with _fear_.

Every single one of the white-coats had it.

And today, the hue burned brighter than usual.

_What are they afraid of?_

She turned her gaze downwards.

And wheezed.

_What the—_

The second floor felt like a furnace. There wasn't a single soul present, but something had been there— something tainted with a fire so cursed and evil that its mere presence scalded her deft mental touch.

What could possibly have happened inside this castle of horrors that was even worse than usual?

She mentally moved lower, her Mind's Eye allowing her to pass through the castle walls and floors like they weren't even there. Her physical form may have been confined to the chamber, but mentally?

Mentally, she could see everything that transpired on the island.

Mentally, she was _free_.

_Where's Blue?_

Blue— her favorite person in this prison —was nowhere to be seen. That was strange. She didn't know his name, but his chakra had a particular shade of baby blue, one that felt of innocence and innate goodness. As far as she was concerned, he was Blue.

But where was he?

Karin delved deeper into the dungeons.

And froze in horror.

Karin could sense at least a hundred souls, their chakra burning deep purple along with smidges of various other colors. Red, rage— green, frustration— ash, pain—

All of them were monsters.

All of them were shinobi.

All of them were twisted.

And all of them were being hunted.

She shifted her awareness to the right and—

A sword of pure lightning cleaved straight through her.

Karin's eyes shot open, and she found herself back in the chamber.

Wet, shivering, and absolutely _terrified_.

Just what was happening in this place? Where was Blue? Had something happened to him? Was he in that fight? Was he injured— was he— was he de—?

Karin shook her head violently, trying her best to throw the morbid thought out of her mind. Nothing had happened to Blue. She wouldn't let anything happen to Blue. Without him, her existence had no meaning.

She pulled at the manacles restraining her hands and legs.

They clinked but remained resolute, leaving her with a familiar feeling of helplessness.

She threw herself at the door, but the shackles pulled her back with just as much force— the chains too strong and heavy to break with her insignificant efforts. Blinking back tears she didn't know she still had, Karin sat down and looked towards the bars on her window.

A prisoner. That's what she was. She'd been locked in this madhouse of horrors since she was a little girl, hear earliest memories filled with nothing but blood and white-coats and blood and pain and blood and—

This time, tears really did fall from her eyes.

Five meals a day, wasting away within these four walls, screaming herself hoarse as her blood was taken and she was injected with all sorts of fluids, utterly violated to satisfy the perverse curiosities of some sick bastard.

This would be the rest of her life.

Only something would be missing.

In the depths of her despair, when she reached out as far as she could with her Mind's Eye, there would be nothing where there was warmth before.

No Blue.

And _that_ , was unacceptable.

Determinedly, Karin closed her eyes. Hundreds of different locations flitted through her mind, her senses painting them in different shades of color once more. Moving faster than physically possible, her presence moved downstairs, searching through rooms to find him. Most were discarded almost immediately. Blue's movements were predictable— he never went to the dungeons, never came to the first floor, and never traversed outside the castle's boundaries.

 _Faster,_ she told herself, zooming through different rooms and chambers and walls. Her mind whirled in frustration and anxiety.

_Where are you?_

Her thoughts lingered momentarily on the outer balcony— she'd sensed him there earlier that morning. Blue liked to stand there. Maybe he was—

Karin was there before the thought finished.

No Blue.

_Shit!_

She raced downstairs. Where was he? She needed to find him, and quickly. She rushed through the outer courtyard— wasn't there. She went past the small bridge to the place where boats were kept— absent. She sped through the dungeon in hopes he was hiding there from those monsters of titanic strength— no, _faster!_

The second floor was quickly discarded, so was the third. The first? No.

_Where is he?_

Karin pushed herself even faster, the anxiety now catching up to her as a growing sense of dread began to engulf her thoughts. She tasted something metallic on her lips, as a red haze crept inwards from the edges of her vision— the Mind's Eye didn't come without a price.

_Faster!_

Blue was nowhere to be found, and she'd pretty much checked the entire island. The only place left was the top floor, but if he was there, she'd have sensed him even without the Mind's Eye. She always did. But something inside her told her he was there. He just _had_ to be.

Karin shifted her focus back onto the castle and soared upwards.

Still no Blue. Instead, all she found was—

_Him._

Throughout her unfortunate life, she'd felt the chakra of many monsters— murderers without remorse and butchers beyond saving —and yet none had chakra so dark, so cold, so cruel, so unfeeling.

If Blue gave her hope, then the slightest contact with Black drained her of all hope.

He was a _monster_. An extreme psychopath, or as close to one as she'd ever met. Every time a white-coat came close to this person, their figure immediately became tinged with a purple, one that grew darker the longer they remained around them.

She refocused on the frightening chakra. There was something strangely familiar about it, a thin aura around the black, flickering in and out like a candle flame with specks of blue—

A frigid cold descended upon her.

_No… No this can't—_

Karin's head throbbed, the metallic taste filling her mouth. But she wouldn't be denied. She pushed past the cruel black and dove into the specks of blue, into the flickering flame of light, past the strange sigils of gold and steel and yellow and—

And then it happened.

She couldn't really put it into words. One moment, she was digging into the strange-looking sigils, hunting for her _hope_. And in the next, an inky darkness enveloped her as a long, skeletal arm belonging to a body at least thirty feet tall came out of nowhere and grabbed onto her.

Not her senses, not her physical body, but her very _presence_.

The stained black claws jutting out of knobby fingers dug into her, blinding her with a kaleidoscope of colors she didn't even know existed. Karin couldn't help but whimper as an absolutely _murderous_ aura consumed her very existence.

_This is it. I'm about too—_

And then she was somewhere else.

No longer was she shackled in her prison, forced to perceive the world through her Mind's Eye. Instead, she found herself drenched in ice-cold water— no, not water. Karin's stomach lurched as she stared at the dull crimson liquid. This was _blood_ — she'd recognize the familiar coppery scent anywhere.

Anxiety and nausea seized her as the skeletal fingers grabbed her once more and dragged her through the bloody grounds, the viscous liquid entering through her nose and mouth and suffocating her as she emptied her stomach in instinctive, blind terror.

Suddenly, she hit something solid— or was that liquid? She heard a loud splash and felt herself being spun around and dropped like a heavy sack. When she finally found a slight reprieve, she immediately used it to whimper from the sheer _pain_ of it all.

"Who are you?"

Karin balked at the sudden voice, warily looking up. She'd fallen onto the floor— one overflowing with blood of all things, and there was now a stranger standing in front of her. He had bright yellow hair with sparkling blue eyes, and his face had strange whisker-like markings on each cheek not unlike a fox. He also looked to be in his early teens— probably thirteen or fourteen, if she had to guess.

"Look what the _tide_ brought in," came a woman's voice. It was sharp, venomous, and raspy. Karin could sense overwhelming hate, weariness, and amusement mummified together in it.

She looked down at her shivering hands, then at her toes. She could _feel_ the bloody waters caressing the top of her feet, lingering momentarily before being washed away by more crimson tides. It was cold, thick, and disgustingly slimy.

Those were physical sensations.

 _Physical_ sensations.

Karin gulped as she realized what that meant— she was no longer behind the safety of her Mind's Eye technique.

This was _real._

That, or an elaborate genjutsu.

"Who are you?" the boy repeated, drawing her attention.

Karin opened her mouth to speak, but the words just wouldn't form. She tried to look around, but her eyes refused to focus on anything else. Instead, her attention was solely fixated on the boy.

"…Blue," she tried to murmur. It came out as a barely comprehensible croak.

"Huh?" the teen blinked. "Who's Blue?"

"You— you—" Karin raised a hand shakily, her mind refusing to believe what she was seeing. "You're him. You're— you're—"

"Naruto," the teen answered, smiling. "I'm Naruto."

"Nar—ruto," she repeated. "Naruto."

The name— _Naruto_ —reverberated several times within her soul, resonating like a long-lost mantra that defined her very life and existence. Karin couldn't tell when she had gotten up exactly, but before she knew it, she had her arms swung around him as she embraced him in a tight bear hug. She dug her face into his neck, her hands clenching around him tightly, afraid he'd vanish if she let go.

It was only several seconds later that she realized she was draped around a stranger, one who had no idea who she was.

And they were both naked.

"Ack!" She pushed herself off of him as if burned by his touch, her cheeks redder than the roots of her crimson hair, and looked him in the eye. "I— uh, sorry about that."

The boy— _Naruto_ —looked torn between bemusement and confusion. Finally, a warm, lopsided grin spread across his lips. "That's alright, but who're you? How did you get in here?"

"This insect came in here looking for you, boy," the feminine voice from before growled out. Immediately a woman, one she could only describe as lethally beautiful, with blood-red hair stepped forward, appearing behind the bars of a large cage.

Karin immediately hid behind Naruto, tightly hugging his arm to her chest. Standing before her was the single largest source of chakra she had ever felt. Twisted and malicious and yet slightly playful at the same time, the blood-coloured chakra exuded a deathly aura in suffocating waves.

Then the entity— she refused to call her a _woman_ —took a step forward. "Isn't that right, _Uzumaki?_ "

Karin gulped. She— it — knew her?

"How— how do you—?"

A predatory glint appeared in the woman's eyes. "I can smell that stench anywhere, girl."

"Wait, you're an _actual_ Uzumaki?" Blue— _Naruto_ —spoke up, his gaze sparkling with curiosity, slowly shifting from her face to her red hair and then back to her face. "Well, you do have red hair. She," he gestured at the entity with his thumb, "was trying to convince me I'm an Uzumaki, too. Funny, right?"

Karin uselessly opened her mouth and closed it, repeating the action several times before her brain caught up.

"You're an Uzumaki, too?" she finally croaked out.

"Namikaze, really," Naruto muttered. "That's my father's family name. Plus, I have _yellow_ hair."

But Karin's mind was racing far ahead for once. So close to his spiritual form, Naruto's essence and chakra glowed like the sun, blue and pure and warm. More interestingly, her gaze went down to his navel, where an incredibly complex seal lay drawn. As a student of fuinjutsu at her mother's knee, Karin immediately recognized it for what it was.

"That's—" she exclaimed, taking a step forward. "That's an Uzumaki creation! Eight Trigrams Seal. It's used to trap—" Karin choked, before slowly moving her gaze to the entity, who was now shooting her a mocking grin, a single fang protruding from her lips.

"You know what this is?" Naruto asked, looking at the seal with a strange expression on his face. "I thought it's just something I was born with. The Master—" he paused, with the air of someone realizing he'd spoken too much.

"...Yes," Karin moistened her lips. Seeing this entity, a _tailed beast_ , inside this astral plane could only mean one thing. This boy, Naruto— her Blue —was a _jinchuuriki_.

A human sacrifice.

Was this why he'd been kept on this remote island? Away from the world?

Isolated, like herself?

It made a frightening amount of sense. For all the apathy the white-coats demonstrated, they would have to be a special kind of fool to mistreat a _jinchuuriki_. Tales of human sacrifices and tailed beasts alike were a part of Uzushio's legacy, and her mother told her plenty of such stories back when they lived in Kusagakure.

"Tell him," the _Demon_ smiled at her.

It should have been comforting on the face of someone so beautiful, but instead it made her want to retreat to the safety of her torture chamber, letting all those pretty little machines drain the blood out of her. Why did she ever think this was a good idea?

She met Naruto's sky blue eyes.

And melted.

Again.

"Uh… you there?"

"Yes?" she yelped, shifting on her feet. "Yes— I mean, yes. What were you saying?"

Naruto calmly pointed at the ornate seal on his stomach. Karin cheeks reddened, and it took monumental effort on her part not to look even lower.

"It's called the Eight Trigrams Seal, the symbol of the main family. It's used to seal away beings of titanic strength, like her," she gestured to _it_ with a finger, "inside people. To prevent them from destroying the world."

The blood on the floor began to shake.

Karin took a step back, but soldiered on. "Having that symbol means you're a jinchuuriki. A warden. A living lock that seals bijuu away from the real world."

The expression on the boy's face was priceless.

"Do you believe now, _boy_?" said bijuu questioned, though Karin couldn't tell if she was smirking at him or snarling. Her aura of terrifying power was thick enough to roughly mask her emotions.

"I… yeah, I guess so."

Karin, however, had other things on her mind. The bijuu, whichever it was, didn't seem too murderous, given the way she was conversing with them just to prove a point. Besides, if such a beast wanted her dead, she'd be dead.

Karin pushed her fear to the back of her mind and focused on more important things. Blu— _Naruto's_ lifeforce had been flickering earlier. It suggested that something more ominous was afoot, especially with the black-chakra of the monster melding with her beloved Blue. Something was utterly wrong and she wanted answers.

And if that meant interrogating a bijuu—

Karin glanced at Naruto, who was idly standing beside her.

—Then interrogate a bijuu she would.

"What's going on?" she questioned the ancient creature. "His chakra is fading. Why is he dying?"

The bijuu-woman ignored her and turned her head towards Naruto with all the haste of a snail. "So… do you believe me now?"

"I suppose," he squeaked out.

"Good," the woman smiled. The very sight made Karin want to throw up. "Now, unless you want to waste even more of your miserable life, I suggest you _listen to me_."


	7. Act 1 - Beyond the Horizon | Chapter 6 - Rules of the Game

Misdirection.

If there was one thing Orochimaru believed to be the central element in a fight, that would be it. Shinobi were a skilled bunch who preferred to fight on mostly equal grounds, which was strange and funny because a fair fight meant that someone— either you or your opponent —had made a massive blunder.

And when you saw two highly capable shinobi like Orochimaru of the Sannin and Minato Namikaze fighting one another, that meant the real fighting was probably happening elsewhere. Orochimaru knew it. And he knew that Minato knew it. And he knew that Minato knew that he knew it.

It was simply the kind of people they were.

Highly trained, sophisticated killers.

And misdirection was their bread and butter.

Orochimaru had Minato figured out in the first five seconds of the fight. If the Fourth Hokage, master of the Hiraishin, wanted you dead, then you dropped dead— there were no two ways about it. But instead, Minato had drawn him a long-winded conversation, and when Orochimaru wanted some time to prepare his next scheme, he willingly went with it.

Orochimaru had a plan. A big one.

The problem was, Minato did too.

So if both of them were perfectly happy with stalling one another, it meant that the _real_ event was happening somewhere else.

The question was— _where?_

Minato's soul shard had literally lived inside this place from the moment of its creation. For over thirteen years, the admittedly brilliant man had nothing better to do than familiarizing himself with this literal labyrinth.

Frankly, the fact that this metaphysical place seemed to be some kind of tunnel— blood flowing or not —was alarming in and of itself. After all, this was a _seal_ , and the only sentience contained within belonged to a chakra beast. He had expected a jungle, or a destroyed planet, or something more cozy like a cave filled with illusory meat.

Not this… this dingy, uninhabitable place.

If both he and Namikaze were here, chances were that the child was somewhere in this gutter as well. And given how these waters ebbed and flowed according to the great Kyuubi's emotions, he had no doubts as to where these waters would eventually lead him. As the host of the Seal, Naruto would probably be allowed to enter without any problems.

Unless, of course, Minato had somehow complicated the entire process.

Speaking of whom…

A _rasengan_ of all things came speeding towards him, just after Minato had tried to trap him using the _Swamp of the Underworld_ jutsu. A Jiraiya special for the Snake-Sannin— no doubt Namikaze thought it'd be ironic and amusing.

Orochimaru clenched his teeth.

Still, it was surprising. Minato Namikaze was always of the ilk that used chakra like it was lifeblood, with extreme precision and only when necessary. For someone like that to keep bombarding him with all these jutsu was—

He weaved out of the trajectory of a second rasengan.

—Annoying. How was he doing this? Had Namikaze downplayed his chakra reserves in real life, or was something more insidious going on? He needed to find out—

A third and _fourth_ rasengan pincered his head, each one a half-inch away from his ears, only to suddenly explode with extreme prejudice. It was only because of his incredibly honed instincts that he managed to survive the ordeal.

"Alright, now you're just being mean."

"What are you talking about?" Minato asked, standings with his arms akimbo.

It was official. Once again, the deceased Hokage took an opportunity to stall instead of using the opening to attack. He didn't call the man out— a momentary ceasefire was a perfect chance to catch his breath and think things through. And from what he could tell, he was pretty sure the person in front of him was a _fake_.

A shadow clone, just like the ones he'd been fighting thus far.

The prospect left two outcomes.

The first was that the _real_ Minato Namikaze was elsewhere, likely taking the chance to meet with his son, who was now also in the Seal.

Or second, the great Kyuubi was about to meet its warden for the first time. The Five Elements Seal he had applied earlier trapped any and all of the beast's chakra from entering Naruto's system all this time.

He wondered if it would try to eat him alive.

"Getting tired so soon?" a panting Minato asked him, lifting up a hand. Slowly, a violent swirl of chakra began forming in the center of his palm, coalescing until it became a neat ball. But it wasn't like his previous rasengan. This time, it was different— a cerulean blue hue, mixed in with blood-red strands of chakra, gave the jutsu an ominous look.

Orochimaru carefully observed his opponent. Throughout the entire battle, the Namikaze clones had limited themselves to using basic attacks, albeit with enhanced agility and precision. In short, he'd employed tactics that required minimal use of chakra including the Hiraishin, which was a surprisingly low-cost technique.

But now, Namikaze had finally begun stepping up his game and throwing flashy jutsu left and right with reckless abandon. An amateur would think Minato was on the ropes, throwing everything into his attacks in a blind act of desperation to win.

Fortunately, Orochimaru knew better.

 _Expected_ better, from a man like Namikaze.

The Fourth Hokage didn't have much chakra to begin with, and everything he did have was distributed across his shadow clones, much like police officers patrolling this rancid gutter of a seal. He mentally pictured dozens of Namikazes running around, ready to attack invaders on sight.

And the man had been doing this since the night of the Seal's conception.

_So that's your game._

Orochimaru threw his head back, and _laughed_.

"…What?" the Fourth Hokage asked. "Don't think I'm on the ropes just yet, Orochimaru. I've still got a lot left in the tank."

Time and time again, their battle continued to prove that misdirection was the name of the game, and one needed to look no further than what the man had just uttered. A regular bluff would imply Namikaze wanted him to think he had more chakra than he actually did— something he wasn't simple-minded enough to actually do. A double bluff meant Namikaze had more than he was showing, and his interjection was an attempt to draw out the battle.

But not in this case.

No, this was a triple bluff.

Because Minato Namikaze wasn't saving his chakra at all.

Orochimaru sighed, mentally sparing a single second to mourn the loss of such a bright individual. As much as he despised the man, the end of a brilliant mind had come too soon.

"Credit where credit is due, Minato. This is a rather remarkable way of using senjutsu."

It was, admittedly, a brilliant plan. The two of them were fighting within the Eight-Trigrams Seal, the locale where the Kyuubi-no-kitsune's chakra was trapped. Were he to use senjutsu here, the so-called _natural energy_ would simply be the chakra of the tailed beast, since the seal had no access to the natural energy of the world. Of course, controlling bijuu chakra was nearly impossible to do suddenly, but if one were to spend years within the seal, having nothing to do but practice…

He looked back at the multi-colored rasengan in the man's hand.

Like he said, brilliant.

The Hokage clone arched an eyebrow as he gripped a kunai with his other hand. "A compliment? You're going to make me blush."

"Don't get used to it. A single moment of respect for your brilliance does not outshine my animosity towards you."

"But it does show me that you aren't as smart as you think, Orochimaru," he shook his head. "Or have you forgotten? Using senjutsu requires a massive amount of chakra, otherwise the wielder suffers from a permanent animal transformation."

Orochimaru chuckled. "Don't play me for a fool. I may not be a _sage_ like you, but—" their kunai clashed as they rushed towards one another, "I spent enough time understanding it all. Senjutsu requires you to balance natural energy with your own chakra. If you have low chakra reserves and appropriately imbibe low amounts of natural energy, then you can greatly increase your own strength—"

He rushed forward once more, swinging his leg in a sweeping kick, but Minato jumped backwards at the last moment.

"—Without undergoing any transformation."

"Color me impressed," Minato laughed. "You have no idea how many people have missed that fine print."

Orochimaru watched as another kunai was thrown at him and promptly vanished in mid-air as Minato seamlessly substituted himself in its place, the rasengan already in motion towards his chest.

It struck true, driving through his body like a hot knife through butter. But where there was once a chest now stood a thick slab of rock instead. Orochimaru sidestepped his rock clone and grabbed the Fourth Hokage with a single hand, driving his other sharply into the man's heart.

"But I'm not most people. I'm Orochimaru."

"You always were one step ahead," Minato coughed out, blood dripping down his chin. "Luckily, I was two steps ahead of you."

A _second_ clone appeared out of nowhere behind the Sannin's back and thrust an ordinary-looking kunai towards his throat.

But Orochimaru caught the weapon just as its tip brushed across his Adam's apple, as his other hand held a kunai pointed at Namikaze's stomach.

"Looks like we're at a stalemate," the blond chirped, smiling all the while.

"You must be so proud of yourself," Orochimaru snorted, "thinking you're doing a great job of stalling me. But that's not an easy task when I was always three steps ahead."

Minato frowned. "You have no more clones. If you did, my senjutsu would have picked them up. The only chakra signature in our vicinity besides me is you."

Orochimaru smiled.

"Exactly."

And then he exploded in a cloud of smoke.

* * *

Fox.

Trickster.

Devourer.

Anathema.

Over the course of a millennia, the Kyuubi-no-kitsune had heard it all. Embraced it all. She had been adored, feared, worshipped, hated, welcomed, betrayed. She had seen empires rise, kingdoms scatter into ashes, civilizations grow and prosper, humans fight and kill and do grotesque things even she would have never considered in her lifetime. She had seen them worship her like divinity, then turn around to call her the Devil.

And yet, none of them came remotely close to describing what she was.

What she _truly_ was.

And that was Power. Unlimited power. Power with a wellspring as deep as the ocean, with a bedrock as resolute as a mountain. She— did she even count as a _she_? Certainly, she was currently female, but what was a paltry thing like gender when one was crafted to be the embodiment of a purpose? When she was the Hand that enacted the Wrath of the Juubi?

A Hand that had lost its owner. A purpose that had lost its meaning. Uncertainty and freedom had given rise to confusion, and while the great Juubi slept powerless and unaware, the Kyuubi-no-kitsune stayed wakeful. The other powers, both demonic and divine, did their jobs. But the bijuu, protectors of the World Tree, the Scales of Balance, were left free.

Power without a purpose.

That was what she was.

Over time, she had come to live with it. Became comfortable in its absence. Sometimes, she shifted into a more human-like form to live alongside the, she returned to her massive creature form to demonstrate her wrath. She had long accepted that she'd never again be the Hand that obeyed the Will of the World, to end what required an ending.

But there went a mortal saying— old habits die hard. For her, it was the naked truth. The Nine-Tailed Demon Fox knew Wrath. Knew rage. Knew terror. Knew destruction. Those were parts of the purpose she was programmed to be.

And so she continued to do her job.

The World continued to move without the Juubi.

And so, she did as well.

Wrath made manifest. Power, endless power that could destroy armies at will, no matter how large or great. And who could be a greater adversary to her than the Otsutsuki and their accursed descendants?

Uchiha.

Uzumaki.

Senju.

One had trapped her psyche and made her dance to their malicious tune.

The second had prepared everlasting chains.

And the last had thrown them around her proverbial neck and forced her to play ball.

Wrath had been tied down to a human's will. But even so, she was content. One way or another, she now had a direction.

A purpose.

The feeling had been short-lived, however. Bijuu were elements of destruction— a single roar could decimate a town, a single moment of rage could end a nation. It was the sort of power that was not meant for human hands. And within their heart of hearts, knew it, too.

So instead, the insignificant humans used them as deterrents.

Weapons created not to be used, but to make others _fear_.

She had laughed herself to insanity when she finally realized what she had become.

A _tool._

A bargaining chip.

One that kept the other insignificant humans at bay.

She would have decimated the entire human race if not for how funny the whole affair was.

And therein laid her problem.

Hubris.

Using a sacrifice to a divine being of power and stature equal to her own, the Uzumaki had crafted those accursed shackles. _Seals_ , they called them. Concepts given form. Sacrifices made to construe an effect that was greater than the sum of its parts. They called her a _tailed beast,_ as if she were a mere mindless beast in the first place, and bound her— and her kin —to other fellow humans.

Ones who would serve as a trap, a vessel, and keep them from ravaging their pretty little world.

Jinchuuriki — they called them. The power of human sacrifice.

She scoffed. As if _humans_ knew anything about sacrifice. About purpose. About Power. About being the embodiment of anything remotely close to such concepts. In a world where butchers and killers cried about oppression, the Kyuubi-no-kitsune found this irony to be a cruel, cruel joke.

The Juubi lay dormant. Senseless. Powerless. Unaware.

Her extensions lay careless, busy in their own little worlds. Busy enacting whatever they could latch onto and leaving the weak to inherit their world.

Leaving humanity to become the dominating force. Humanity and its band of warriors— the shinobi and their kage. _Kage._ How ironic. A race of warrior species referred to their leaders, their strongest fighters, as _shadows_. It fit perfectly considering how the race actually lived in the shadows of the true great races that dwelled in their realm.

And these shinobi— and their kage —had very serious plans for her.

First, with Mito Uzumaki.

Then, with the little tart Kushina.

And now…

She couldn't help but.

Her current warden was a babe, even by human standards. And innocent, to boot. Had she been human, she may have even considered aiding him. Helping him grow. Teaching him the ways of strength.

But she wasn't.

And so she didn't.

Normally, she would never be interested in her warden. After all, he was a rodent in a world full of rodents. Giant, dwarf, black, white, thin, thick— such things did not matter when they were all prey.

But unlike her previous jailors, her current warden wasn't cut from the same cloth.

He wasn't a shinobi.

Rather, he was just an innocent human, one who chose to live and let live. One born and bred away from the prejudice and customs and ideals of the cutthroat shinobi world.

She watched him from within her seal. Watched him stumble through the gilded cage that was his life, raised like a pig for slaughter. Watched him being forced to imbibe that new seal— another accursed bit of fuinjutsu implanted into him, something that could make things _difficult_ for her and her plans. Watched him instantaneously gain new chakra natures.

She watched. She processed. And she understood.

This child had potential. Coupled with this new seal, her unending chakra, and her guiding hand, this _boy_ could become a true Kage. A shadow of the Divine. Born of accursed Uzumaki blood, it was only fitting that this human-ling grew to become the new ruler of this tiny world of shinobi.

One she could slowly craft into _her_ perfect tool.

She loved the poetry of it all. She was born to serve the purpose of the World, only to then be forced to do the bidding of humans. And now, another _human_ would serve her purpose.

Indeed, such irony was befitting when dealing with shinobi.

It would take time, but time itself was meaningless to an eternal being like herself.

Now, all she needed was to use the final ingredient in a proper fashion to get the ball rolling.

The other shinobi, Orochimaru— the one who wished to take over her warden's body by consuming his consciousness to use her entrapped chakra for his own benefit. Normally, she'd not bat an eye at such an arrangement. Humans killing humans wasn't always profitable, but it certainly brought some degree of entertainment to someone like her. What did she care for who held the keys to her prison or for what reason?

But the Ryujin, the accursed fuinjutsu enchantment developed by said shinobi, made all the difference.

It was the difference between entertainment and true peril.

It was the difference between a temporary imprisonment and decades of real _servitude_.

It was the difference between watching from the sidelines and actively taking a side.

And so, it was time she acted.

The shinobi world wouldn't know what hit it.

All she needed to do was ensure that her Warden _chose_ her.

The Kyuubi-no-kitsune was presently shapeshifted to look like Mito Uzumaki— if said bitch had been less uptight, less headstrong, and far more sensual. By stroke of luck, she had come across a second Uzumaki, a girl whose awareness had somehow condensed into a spectral form with enough chakra to feel physical sensations.

And Naruto was there too. Her Warden, and the one human she'd have to keep alive no matter what.

It was certainly an interesting turn of events.

"Tell me, boy," she commanded imperiously. "Now that you see the game you have been a pawn of, what are you going to do?"

"I…" She could practically feel the confusion emanating from his form. His distress. His frustration from the lack of options. But most of all, she could feel the knowledge of his impending doom fighting against well-developed instincts that kept him from trusting strangers like her.

_Finally, a jinchuuriki worth the trouble._

"He's coming," she heard the Uzumaki girl mumble. "I sense several more of him, fighting against another."

"Another?" her warden asked.

"He's blue, and orange too. He's a protector," the girl went on, much to her displeasure. "But we don't have to worry about him. He's—"

Her eyes met Karin's.

The girl whimpered.

"Who. Is. Coming?" she asked again, emphasizing each of her words. She hoped she wouldn't have to kill the annoying girl to make her warden understand the seriousness of the situation.

Exercising her wrath always made her feel good, but often left a bad impression on others.

And sometimes, impressions were everything.

"Black," the red-haired girl murmured. "The man with Black." The girl, now wide-eyed in fear, turned towards Naruto. "It's the man that lives atop the castle. The one who everyone fears."

"The Master?" Naruto asked, distress coloring his tone.

"He's coming. He's coming here. He'll kill you. He'll kill— kill—" The girl's eyes constantly darted between Naruto and her own vulpine gaze. "You need to hide. You need to—"

She could almost taste the girl's desperation. Yes, she could use this to her advantage.

She would serve as another useful tool.

In her long life, she had seen fractured fragments of the Juubi's essences manifest in humans across different forms. The shinobi of the modern world called such phenomena _kekkei-genkai_. Bloodline abilities.

She mentally snorted. As if _blood_ had anything to do with them.

"I told you, boy," she repeated, gathering Naruto's attention. "If you do not listen to me, you will die."

"What do I—" Naruto began, only to be cut off by the Uzumaki girl.

"Why do you care?"

She raised an eyebrow at the sudden outburst. Not many would dare to raise their voice against someone of her stature, imprisoned or not.

"Naruto is your jinchuuriki. If he were to die, then you escape. There's no reason for you to help him."

_And intelligent, too. What am I going to do with you?_

"No." Surprisingly enough, it was Naruto who had spoken up.

"What do you mean?" the girl demanded.

"She can't escape. The Master— he wants to possess me. My body." He looked towards her hoping for confirmation. She gave him one with a shake of her head— what he said was _technically_ right, though not for the reasons he thought it was.

"It doesn't work that way, Bl— Naruto," the girl argued, much to her consternation. "Once the jinchuuriki gets killed, the bijuu trapped within escapes. It's why jinchuuriki are kept safe and protected by their shinobi village."

Which was also technically true. Again, it wouldn't work that way for her, but the uppity little girl didn't need to know such details.

She considered eating her again.

"Only if I die," Naruto argued.

"Yes," the Uzumaki deadpanned. "That's what _killing you_ means."

"You don't understand," her warden argued back. "The Master doesn't want to _kill_ me. He wants to take over completely. I— my body — it'll still live on. As—"

"Orochimaru," came the incredibly smooth voice.

The one trying to kill her warden.

The man with Black had arrived.

* * *

The first time Karin laid eyes on the Snake-Sannin, she felt a nauseating _wrongness_ in the air, the hideous presence of something significantly powerful and equally vile. And considering how she had been talking to the Nine-Tailed _Demon_ Fox, greatest of the bijuu, that was certainly saying something.

"We're under attack," she snarled, ignoring her own surprise at how feral she sounded. "We," she snatched Naruto's hand, "need to leave. Now."

Naruto turned and stared at her. Hard. "You want us to run?"

"That man is going to _kill_ you, Blue. I'll— you need to escape from this place as fast as possible."

"What about you?"

At any other moment, Karin would have found the sentiment extraordinary saccharine. But considering how he was a mere boy compared to this… this _demon_ clad in human flesh standing mere feet away, it was nothing but stupid.

"Karin, isn't it?" the man with Black chuckled. "Interesting. I wasn't aware you two _knew_ each other."

Karin knew better than to respond to the serpentine man. _Do not fear,_ she mentally repeated to herself. As much as this seemed real, it wasn't. She was a psychic imprint at best. A dream-self of the real Karin Uzumaki, with her Mind's Eye connecting her consciousness with Naruto through this strange, incredibly complex seal. All the pain and suffering she felt here would be as real as real could be, and even make her wish she were dead. But it would still all be in her mind.

A farce that would end the moment her eyes fluttered open.

And if it wasn't…

She glanced at Naruto— her _Blue —_ one last time. At long last, she'd gotten the chance to meet him. To talk to him. To do something for him, however insignificant the action may have been. She felt happy, being able to thank the person who had preserved her sanity during her imprisonment.

She turned to Naruto, her countenance as stern as she could muster. "I'm— this isn't the real me. My actual body is somewhere in the castle, on the first floor. Find the real me and get me out if you can. If not, then—" She audibly swallowed. "Then this is where we say goodbye."

"But—"

"Get _out_! Now!" Karin screamed, her hands quivering. From fright. From anger. Maybe both. Her awareness told her of the _protector_ in the pipes. She'd sensed him quite a while back, and he wasn't too far away either.

So why was he taking so damn long to arrive?

She met the Kyuubi's eyes.

" _You need to listen to me,"_ the demon-woman had told Naruto. Just what was her plan? Karin knew that jinchuuriki were able to draw chakra from the beasts sealed within them to generate explosive strength, both physical and elemental. She'd heard tales of Utakata, the infamous missing-nin of Kiri and jinchuuriki of the six-tailed beast, and if any of them held water, then jinchuuriki were Dangerous— with a capital D.

But Naruto was no Utakata. He wasn't even a shinobi. He was just a child, much like herself. His eyes were tender with naivety, and his chakra was far too bright for anyone who called themselves shinobi.

The Nine-Tailed Fox had unending chakra, but what good was power without the skill to use it? The Kyuubi could have supplied him with hundreds of times the energy his body could handle, but Naruto wasn't capable of using a single jutsu.

He was a civilian.

 _Just what do you plan to do to him, False God?_ she mused, her eyes never leaving the woman.

The Demon smirked.

" _Help him,"_ Karin murmured inwardly, tears of desperation falling from her eyes.

The smirk deepened. " _ **Very well, I will. But you have to convince him to go through with it."**_

Karin blinked. Had she just read the Demon Fox's mind?

The woman chortled. " _ **I'm allowing my unfiltered thoughts to be heard by you, Uzumaki spawn."**_

" _C— convince him to do what, then?"_ Karin exclaimed.

" _ **Embrace his destiny,"**_ the demon in human form answered, looking like a starved predator smiling down at its first meal in weeks. " _ **He's my jinchuuriki. Mine. This seal locks me away from the mortal realm, but it is as much a prison for him as it is for me. It tethers Naruto to a life on the run, sought after by power-hungry jackals who want my power for their own purposes. It's a prison of his own father's design."**_

Her features contorted for a moment, as if realizing she'd spoken far too much. " _ **And now, he is mine to shape. Mine to wield. And mine to nurture."**_

"I won't let you destroy his innocence," Karin growled audibly, earning a strange look from the boy in question.

" _ **Then you need to make a choice,"**_ the Demon mentally shot back. " _ **His innocence, or his life. My power can save him, but at the cost of his innocence."**_ Her lips twisted. " _ **He seems to trust you, for some utterly human reason. Use it to convince him to accept his role as my warden. To accept my power as his own. Let me guide him and destroy his enemies. Let me be the balm that protects him from pain."**_

She paused, her fanged teeth bared in victory, " _ **Let me be the flame with which he burns the world down."**_

Karin glanced at Naruto— at Blue, _her_ Blue —staring at him with indecision and a growing trepidation.

"Shall I assume that you're going to give up?" the man with Black silkily asked, his slit-like eyes staring at Karin with something akin to amusement. "Or have you changed your mind?"

Karin clenched her fingers tightly, causing her companion to hiss out in discomfort. She glanced down and saw her hand wrapped around Naruto's wrist, her nails digging into his skin and drawing out blood. She felt her own weight shift as she placed her shoulder blades against his. It was only for a moment, and for that single moment, she allowed herself to ignore her Eye and let herself _feel_. Intense relief, realizing he was still standing next to her. Intense fear, realizing he was in danger. And possible pain. Loss. Terror. Confusion. Bewilderment.

She waged an internal war against everything that was happening around her. A part of her continued to whisper in her ears that none of it could possibly be real, that it was all in her head and she was back in her prison cell, moments away from waking up to white lab coats and needles and a life that would never change.

But this time, there was no denying it.

This time, she would face reality.

She squeezed harder.

Naruto didn't push her away.

And that, in her mind, made all the difference.

" **Do we have an accord?"** the demoness audibly asked.

There was a very real possibility that if she accepted, her Blue would cease to exist. But even so, _Naruto_ would still survive.

It was more than she could hope for in this cruel world.

"Yes," she heavily sighed. "We do."

"Well?" the man with Black asked, his hand at his waist in typical interrogative fashion. "Aren't you going to attack me?" His smirk deepened. "Assuming you _can_ attack me."

A deep, ominous chuckle reverberated from behind them. " **She can't,"** answered the demon-woman, much to his visible surprise. " **But you'll find that** _ **I can**_ **."**

Their eyes met.

Bijuu met shinobi.

For a moment, nothing happened.

And then, the man with Black— Orochimaru —opened his mouth in silent horror and _screamed._

* * *

It was a generally accepted fact that bijuu, unlike other spirits, were genuine chakra constructs. Some even knew them as reflections of the original Juubi, otherwise known as the World Tree. One could even say that the nine bijuu were not unlike Shadow Clones themselves, constructs created out of chakra with personality derived from the original— clones that later developed their own quirks and established their own identities.

Nine beasts. Nine different reflections, each with varying amounts of chakra.

The fact that bijuu could perish and yet seamlessly return to the mortal realm only reinforced the belief.

Orochimaru knew all this, and more. As someone who had spent over a decade trying to come up with an invention that required a bijuu-sized chakra battery to function at maximum efficiency, it would have been foolhardy not to. But even so, he'd fallen into the one trap that almost _every_ other person before him succumbed to.

His own ego.

Bijuu were powerful, but they were seen as _beasts_. Not shinobi. Degenerate existences that followed the law of the jungle and bowed down to the whims of those that were more powerful.

The Kyuubi-no-kitsune proved him wrong.

It was a common saying that eyes were the windows to the soul. Before this day, Orochimaru had thought the rhetoric was a terribly overused cliché.

Really, he should have known better.

One moment, he was meeting the inhuman gaze of the Kyuubi. Her eyes gleamed with a feral awareness, burning like smouldering embers. Orochimaru continued to stare for a second.

The gaze extended.

And suddenly, a dark, horrible awareness swelled unbearably inside his head, making him feel like his mind was about to explode. He was— he was—

His mouth fell open. His eyes dilated. Could he even comprehend what he was seeing? There was a blur of images, alien and strange and nauseating to his senses. He didn't know how, but his arms and legs moved apart into a spread-eagled position, his body writhing in a mixture of fear and agony. He could see huge branches extending outward in directions and dimensions that made no sense, and yet they did. Things far above human comprehension, bending and contorting into shapes that _couldn't_ exist. He saw himself wreathed in ghostly flames and instinctively knew they were a part of his future, or various possibilities of it.

And _Power_! So much power! Dark emotions— greed, wrath, hatred —hung around around him like a cloak, hugging his form. Ghostly things, restless spirits, souls of the dead and decaying— they were all drawn into this insane whirlpool of rage and insanity. Inexplicable sensations flared in his body, ones so alien that he was no longer sure whether it was pain or pleasure. Or both.

Then he saw Death. Death sat across from him, staring at him through prison bars.

Solid.

Tangible.

Unavoidable.

Maybe it was Death as a concept. Maybe it was his own death he was seeing. He could feel his throat itching as he screamed, as raw flames erupted all over his skin—

Orochimaru gasped, opening his eyes.

His entire face had scrunched itself into all sorts of contours as specks of experience came rushing in from his _clone_. Not for the first time, he breathed a sigh of relief for not waltzing into the literal belly of the beast and instead sent a clone to do some reconnaissance.

Clones were so useful.

Whatever weird _genjutsu_ the Kyuubi had done to his shadow clone, it had caused it to immolate in sheer horror. Everything he'd experienced by proxy were mere remnants of the clone's memories. It was frightening, to think that whatever the clone had truly seen was so incomprehensibly horrid that it couldn't be passed back to him as feedback.

It begged the question. Just _what_ did clone-Orochimaru see?

He knew of the infamous Mangekyō Sharingan. He knew of its loathsome mastery over illusion. But this? What kind of infernal jutsu had the bijuu performed on him?

Could such a thing even be considered a _jutsu_ in the first place?

Orochimaru took a shuddering breath, struggling to see past the anger, the hate, the unsettling fear that the bijuu had instilled into him via his clone. Errant thoughts flooded through him— feelings of extreme vengeance, of retribution, of butchering the kid for resisting his will.

But it wasn't enough. Not to cow someone like him. He would not bend or break before _emotions_. Unbridled emotion was a brute-force tool, and Orochimaru had always prided himself on being a scalpel. Rationality. Order.

Pragmatism.

That was what chakra was meant to be used for. Proper, well-established releases of one or more elements, not a sloppy explosion of energy. Shinobi controlled their chakra. They didn't let chakra control them.

And he wouldn't let some _chakra construct_ control him.

For he was Orochimaru of the Sannin.

The anger abruptly evaporated, the burning hatred dissipated, and the fear subsided. Finally, he could think clearly and rationally again.

Orochimaru inhaled, and it felt like the first breath of fresh air in decades. It seemed he was finally getting used to the Kyuubi's chakra without losing himself to its madness.

"It's time, Orochimaru," he exhaled. "Time to take what you want."

He stepped into the chamber, ready to face the bijuu in the heart of the monster's malevolent power. The very air throbbed with raw, untamed, _savage_ strength. Strength that he wanted to snatch away from the creature and impart unto himself. Strength that would soon be his, once his Ryujin Seal assumed command.

But first, he had an opponent to face— the infamous Nine-Tailed Demon Fox.

As well as a boy to kill. The very one the beast seemed so intent on protecting.

"Well," he murmured, squaring his shoulders, "no pressure or anything."

* * *

Performing spiritual evocation was always a bad idea.

Spirits, both demonic and divine, weren't part of the human realm. As a diligent student of senjutsu, Minato had long since come to that conclusion while training at Mt. Myobuku to become a Sage. The mountain, much like the infamous Ryuchi Cave, was not part of the human world, instead tethered to reality through strings whose nature defied human comprehension.

So whenever a spirit crossed the barrier between realms, it created ripples in the fabric of space and time around them. The stronger and more influential the spirit, the greater the ripple effect.

And he, Minato Namikaze, had invoked what could be considered the most potent spirit there was.

Shinigami. God of Death.

Not the god that was responsible for ferrying souls to the afterlife after death, but the one that _kept_ them from doing so. It was a Punisher, one that held jurisdiction over creatures from the mortal and spiritual realms. A check of sorts to keep powerful spirits from wreaking havoc on the mortal plane. Any soul or spirit that came into the Shinigami's grasp was caught in an eternal illusion, forever trapped in an endless cycle of self-contemplation.

Never to die. Never to be reborn. Never to find any release.

For spirits that were basically immortal, it was as close to Death as could be.

What else could you call something like that, if not a God of Death?

And the Uzumaki— crazy bastards that they were —created a way to _harness_ that power and turned it into a self-sacrificial jutsu.

Like he said, crazy.

And that was what the real Minato Namikaze had condemned himself to on that night so long ago. He was merely a shard of what was once Minato. A reflection of the original soul, given form and mass through condensed yin and yang chakra, or as the shinobi world liked to call them—

A clone.

Most shinobi believed shadow clones to be mere tools— brute-force methods of attacking and spying on foes. Expendable forces to be summoned into existence and given a command, then dispersed or annihilated as soon as the clone was in danger of being identified.

It sounded simple, but there was so much more to it. The technique was esoteric, but he knew one thing— a human soul could only handle so many conduits. The Uzumaki scrolls were never clear on what having too many would cause, but something about _soul resonance_ could apparently have grave effects on reality as he knew it.

There was a reason, after all, why the Shadow Clone Jutsu was considered forbidden.

The real Minato Namikaze was forever trapped inside the Shinigami's realm— his _stomach_ was the colloquially accepted locale —and sentenced to contemplate on his actions till the end of time. He'd feel the pain he had caused others. It was a fitting punishment for an eldritch creature of the spirit world, like an evil god or beast, but for a human?

It was intolerable.

Even clone-Minato, trapped within the Eight-Trigrams Seal, felt the agonizing effects of resonance. After all, the seal in question was held in place by the Shinigami's own powers. Any disturbance in the Seal would attract clone-Minato's attention, but in the absence of invaders, with little else to occupy his time, he too would be stuck in eternal contemplation.

Such was the reward of the Fourth Hokage's grand sacrifice.

"You're being too hard on yourself," clone-Minato muttered as he studied the Ryujin Seal. "You could always give up and self-destruct."

But deep down, he knew that wasn't an option. There was no Minato Namikaze out there in the real world to assimilate the information feedback from the clone's annihilation. The Eight-Trigrams wouldn't allow _anything_ to leave in the first place.

 _You built it,_ the stray thought slithered into his mind. _You can always tweak it._

He cursed under his breath. He wasn't fond of second-guessing. Ever. But second-guessing and contemplating was all he'd been doing since the formation of the Seal. It wasn't like he had anything else to do.

Meanwhile, his reflections— clones of the original clone —were all spread across the labyrinth that was the Seal, trying to keep Orochimaru and _his_ clones at bay. At their current strength _,_ even with the home-ground advantage, they could only hold him back for so long. Not only was the Snake-Sannin a complete soul, he was also his better in power, experience, and treachery.

Not to mention he could use shadow clones just as efficiently.

It was only a matter of time before the Sannin figured out the laws upon which this place operated, and more importantly, how to use them to twist things in his favor.

Stalling the Sannin through close-ranged skirmishes seemed like the logical course of action. Orochimaru was many things, but a hand-to-hand combat expert was not one of them. The tactic wouldn't stall him forever, but it would keep him from reaching where Naruto was.

And all the while, as his own clones kept him busy, the real clone-Minato was doing his best to comprehend the intricacies of the Ryujin Seal. Trying to understand how it was made, what it represented, what its conditions and requirements were— all this while factoring in the mammoth-sized ego of its maker. What Orochimaru wanted, what he wanted, the levels to which the Ryujin could be tweaked without tearing itself apart, and most importantly, how to use it while keeping everything else working smoothly.

It was an exhaustive job, something that needed _days_ to figure out to not accidentally blow everything to bits. There was no telling what a complicated piece of fuinjutsu like the Ryujin would do if it self-destructed inside another powerful, equally complicated fuinjutsu like the Eight-Trigrams Seal.

"That'll have to wait."

He whipped his head around, a kunai instantly materializing into his hand as his body spun, bringing the weapon barely inches away from a heart-shaped face with red hair and—

"EEEP!"

He stopped his motion midway, the blade barely an inch away from piercing straight through the girl's left eye.

"Who're you?" he barked, no time for pleasantries. Formality and patience were tools that worked on a man like Orochimaru, but this _girl_ — if she was a real entity in the first place —was a complete unknown who had literally appeared out of _nowhere_. He had sensed Orochimaru's entry into the Seal earlier, but her?

He gazed into her, his sage abilities sensing her chakra to get a feel of—

Clone-Minato blinked.

Nothing.

The girl was present, but there was literally no chakra around her. She wasn't a soul, but she wasn't a chakra construct either. Nor was this some kind of intricately spun genjutsu web. Yet despite all that, she still somehow existed in front of him.

And now that he took a closer look, she looked an awful lot like Kushina.

What the hell was going on?

Thankfully, the strange girl wasted no time in cutting right to the point.

"Naruto needs your help. The man with Black, _Orochimaru_ , is about to kill him."

"..."

Well, if nothing else, she had a good head on her shoulders. Truthful or not, she had managed to say the one thing that would immediately attract his attention.

Clone-Minato narrowed his eyes. "Tell me everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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